METAPHYSICAL  LIBRARY 

SAN  FRANCISCO    CA1IFORNIA 


BY  AN  UNKNOWN  DISCIPLE 


BY  AN 
UNKNOWN  DISCIPLE 


"He  that  hath  marvelled  shall  reign." 
"Wherefore  have  ye  not  perceived  the  reasonableness 
of  the  Scriptures?" — GOSPEL  TO  THE  HEBREWS. 

"MyJmmanUy  is  the  road  by  which  men  must 
travel." — Suso. 


NEW  ^ar  YORK 

GEORGE  H.  DORAN  COMPANY 


Copyright,  1919, 
By  George  H.  Doran  Company 


Printed  in  the  United  States  of  America 


BY  AN  UNKNOWN  DISCIPLE 


\ 


2028920 


BY  AN  UNKNOWN   DISCIPLE 


MARK  JOHN  was  only  a  boy  then,  and 
what  he  wrote  down  he  learnt  from  Peter. 
Peter  was  there,  but  he  was  hauling  up  the  boats, 
and  didn't  know  what  had  happened  until  he 
heard  the  shouts  and  saw  the  swine  break  away 
and  rush  down  the  hillside  into  the  sea.  He 
never  saw  the  madman  until  all  the  swine  were 
dead.  How,  then,  did  he  know  enough  to  tell 
Mark  John'?  Well,  of  course,  he  heard  the 
others  talk.  And  then  that  was  Peter's  way.  He 
was  always  sure  that  he  knew^yerything_un_tjl  heV 
did  some  hot-tempered,  siHy_action,  and  then  he 
was  sure  that_he_knew_nothing.  He  would  Re 
lieve  everything  or  nothing  according  to  his  tem 
per  towards  the  teller.  He  did  not  care  for  the 
labour  of  weighing  facts  to  decide  between  false 
and  true.  You  could  never  make  Peter  believe 
that  even  when  people  describe  a  thing  as  they 
think  they  saw  it  they  may  still  speak  falsehood. 
If  a  man  told  Peter  that  he  had  met  a  demon  or 

7 


8  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

a  magician  in  the  mountains  Peter  would  be  quite 
sure  that  it  was  a  magician  or  a  demon,  unless  the 
man  who  said  he  saw  it  was  a  Scribe  or  a  Pharisee, 
and  then  Peter  would  say  he  was  a  liar. 

Always  Peter  hated  the  explanations  given  by 
others.  He  never  wanted  to  ask  how  things  had 
happened.  He  felt  so  strongly  that  he  was  sure 
he  knew  and  that  other  more  subtle  explanations 
smelt  of  the  Scribes.  Later  he  grew  into  some- 

^    •  — i 

/  what  of  a  tyrant,  but  always_he  was  Joyablej 

Luke  was  not  there.  I  do  not  know  who  told 
him.  Yes,  he  was  an  educated  man;  but  he  was 
a  physician,  and  he  seldom  saw  beyond  the  things 
of  the  body.  Witness  the  way  he  changed  the 
Blessings.  Peter  never  made  such  mistakes  about 
the  Message;  to  the  end  he  loved_the_ppor,  but 
Luke  wanted  to  keep  them  orderly. 

Peter  and  Luke  and  Mark  John — they  are  all 
(iv— dead  now,7,  and  I  can  speak  my  mind.  When  they 
were  here  I  often  tried,  but  they  did  not  want  to 
listen.  They  liked  their  own  way  of  seeing  the 
miracle  best,  and,  so,  for  the  sake  of  peace  and 
good-fellowship,  I  ceased  to  speak.  If  it  were  the 
truth,  then  one  day  it  would  prevail.  So  I  kept 
silence.  But  you  are  waiting  to  know  about  the 
swine  and  the  madman. 

The  dawn  was  breaking  when  we  reached  the 
land  after  that  stormy  passage  across  the  lake, 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple 


and  I  followed  Jesus  up  the  slope  of  the  shore  to 
the  headlands.  Peter  and  the  other  fishermen 
were  busy  hauling  up  the  boats ;  some  of  the  peo 
ple  who,  like  me,  had  been  passengers,  lay  down 
to  sleep,  some  followed  us  far  behind  in  a  little 
group.  The  light  spread  over  the  hills  was  purple 
and  pink,  and  the  stillness  was  broken  only  by 
the  cheep  of  a  sleepy  bird. 

I  do  not  know  if  Jesus  prayed  as  he  walked, 
but  I  felt  the  stillness,  and  the  lonejiness  brought 
God  near,  and  I  followed  in  silence.  When  we 
reached  the  brow  of  the  headland  it  was  full  day 
light,  and  there,  in  the  distance,  was  the  herd  of 
swine,  slowly  rooting  its  way  towards  us.  The 
swineherds  had  turned  aside  to  eat  their  morning 
meal,  and,  as  they  ate,  pigs  of  all  sizes  and  colours, 
of  all  ages  and  shapes,  moved  on  alone,  occupied 
only  with  filling  their  bellies.  Here  a  small  pig 
grunted  in  anger  as  he  was  pushed  aside  by  a 
gaunt  sow,  whose  barren  dried-up  teats  touched 
the  earth.  There  a  great  boar,  with  tusks  pushed 
up  under  his  lip,  thrust  himself  out  from  the 
crowd  with  sidelong  blows  of  his  heavy  head  to 
seize  the  portion  of  some  smaller  pigs,  who  fled, 
squealing. 

Jesus  stood  still  to  watch,  and,  as  he  watched, 
he  smiled.  When  he  spokeJItT  was  to  answer  the 
question  that  had  remained  unspoken  in  my  mind.' 


10  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

"No,"  he  said,  "why  should  we  call  them  un 
clean*?  They  are  God's  creatures,  as  we  all  are." 

He  turned  as  a  man  came  forward  out  of  the 
group  that  stood  behind  and  said, 

"Rabbi,  it  is  not  safe  to  be  here.  There  are 
madmen  amongst  the  tombs." 

The  man  was  urgent.  Jesus  looked  him 
straight  in  the  eyes,  as  if  to  measure  him,  and  the 
man  returned  the  look  as  straightly  and  went  on 
speaking. 

"They  are  possessed  by  demons.  They  tear 
their  flesh — they  can  be  heard  screaming  day  and 
night.  It  is  not  safe  to  be  here." 

"How  do  you  know  they  are  possessed  by 
demons'?"  asked  Jesus. 

"What  else  could  it  be?"  said  the  man,  "There 
are  none  that  can  master  them.  They  are  too 
/ierce  to  be  tamed." 

"Has  any  man  tried  to  tame  them?"  asked 
Jesus. 

"Yes,  Rabbi.  They  have  been  bound  with 
chains  and  fetters.  There  was  one  that  I  saw. 
He  plucked  the  fetters  from  him  as  a  child  might 
break  a  chain  of  field  flowers.  Then  he  ran,  foam 
ing,  into  the  wilderness,  and  no  man  dare  pass 
by  that  way  now." 

Jesus  was  silent.     His  eyes  were  bent  on  the 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  11 

ground,  and,  after  a  space,  the  man  spoke  again, 
and  it  was  as  if  he  made  excuse. 

"Rabbi,  the  demons  make  the  man  cut  his  flesh 
with  stones ;  they  tear  his  clothes  to  pieces.  Men 
fear  to  touch  him  now.  He  goes  naked." 

Jesus  lifted  his  eyes  to  the  man's  face. 

"Have  men  tried  only  this  way  to  tame  him*?" 
he  asked. 

"What  other  way  is  there,  Rabbi?"  asked  the 
man. 

"There  is  GocTs  way,"  said  Jesus.  "Come. 
Let  us  try  it,"  and  he  went  towards  the  tombs. 
The  man  stepped  back. 

"Rabbi,"  he  faltered.  He  turned  to  his  com 
panions,  and  fear  seemed  to  seize  upon  them. 
Jesus  stopped  and  looked  back.  His  gaze  went 
from  man  to  man,  and  then  his  eyes  fell  upon  me. 
It  was  as  if  a  power  passed  from  him  to  me,  and 
immediately  something  inside  me  answered. 

"Lead,  and  I  follow,"  I  said,  and  he  went  for 
ward  again.  The  others  debated  a  while,  and 
then,  with  hesitation  and  doubting,  they,  too,  fol 
lowed.  The  swineherds,  who  had  drawn  near  to 
hear,  joined  themselves  to  the  men,  and  left  their 
pigs  rooting  and  grunting. 

It  was  not  many  cubit  lengths  to  the  tombs, 
but  the  others  were  far  behind  when  we  reached 
that  desolation. 


12  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

"Do  men  live  here*?"  asked  Jesus,  as  he  looked 
at  the  abomination  around  us.  I  did  not  answer. 
I  was  watching  for  the  madman.  I  think  I  caught 
sight  of  him  at  the  moment  that  he  first  saw  us, 
for,  as  I  touched  Jesus  to  point  to  his  naked  figure, 
he  began  to  run  towards  us  shrieking  and  bound 
ing  in  the  air.  He  had  two  sharp  stonee  in  his 
hands,  and  as  he  leapt  he  cut  his  flesh  with  them, 
and  the  blood  ran  down  his  naked  limbs.  The 
men  behind  us  scattered  and  fled  down  the  hill 
side;  but  Jesus  stood  still  and  waited. 

I  was  about  to  step  forward,  thinking  that  the 
maniac  would  le^p  upon  Jesus,  when  the  miracle 
happened.  For  the  man  as  if  against  his  will 
stopped  short.  Then  he  opened  his  palms,  and 
casting  the  sharp  stones  from  him,  he  bowed  him 
self  to  the  ground  before  Jesus,  and  in  a  most 
piteous  voice  and  with  tears  he  cried : 

"What  do  you  want  with  me,  O  Son  of  the 
most  high  God?  Do  not  say  that  you  also  have 
come  here  to  torment  me!" 

"What  is  your  name1?"  asked  Jesus,  and  at 
the  sound  of  his  voice  the  man  lifted  up  his  head 
and  answered  bitterly, 

"My  name  is  Legion,  for  there  are  many  pos 
sessing  me." 

"Why  do  you  say  you  are  possessed  of  de 
mons?"  said  Jesus. 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  13 

"I  did  not  say  it,"  answered  the  man.  "It  was 
they  who  said  it  wrhen  they  loaded  me  with  chains 
and  tormented  me  in  my  agony.  They  will  tor 
ture  me  again  if  they  catch  me,"  he  cried,  leaping 
to  his  feet  as  the  men  behind,  seeing  him  quieted, 
came  nearer. 

Jesus  turned  and  told  the  men  to  stand  back. 
Then  he  put  out  his  hand  and  touched  the  man. 

"Be  at  peace!"  he  said.  "There  is  none  that 
will  torment  you  now.  You  need  no  longer  tear 
your  clothes,  or  shriek,  or  cut  your  body  with 
stones  to  frighten  your  torturers  away." 

The  man  fell  on  his  face,  a-'"1  again  bowed  his 
head  at  the  feet  of  Jesus. 

"I  was  in  fear,"  he  said.  "They  were  many, 
and  I  was  one,  and  when  the  agony  came  upon 
me  and  they  bound  me  with  chains,  I  broke  them 
like  straws  and  fled.  I  was  in  fear." 

"Fear  is  a  foul  spirit,"  said  Jesus,  "cast  it^put 
from  you."  And  the  man  answered  humbly: 

"I  will."  And  Jesus  put  his  own  cloak  upon 
him  and  led  him  apart  amongst  the  tombs  to 
where  he  could  wash  the  blood  from  his  limbs. 

It  was  then  that  the  swineherds,  who  with  the 
others  devoured  by  curiosity  had  drawn  near 
again,  remembered  their  swine,  and  turning  saw 
them  on  the  edge  of  the  cliff. 


14  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

"See!"  cried  one  to  the  other,  "the  swine  are 
in  danger.  We  shall  lose  some  of  them." 

They  ran  warily,  one  to  each  end  of  the  cliff 
(knowing  the  nature  of  swine  and  how  they  re 
fuse  to  be  driven  save  where  they  wish  to  go), 
meaning  to  get  between  the  swine  and  the  sea; 
but  the  other  men  being  ignorant  and  unskilful, 
yet  wishing  to  help,  ran  swiftly  down  the  hillside 
in  the  face  of  the  swine,  who,  seeing  them  come 
in  haste,  turned  quickly  and  rushed  in  a  mass  to 
wards  the  sea. 

"Stand  back!"  shouted  the  swineherds.  "You 
will  drive  them  over  the  cliff."  But  it  was  too 
late.  The  swine  had  rushed  one  upon  another, 
and  the  slope  was  steep,  and  in  a  moment  they 
were  swept  over  the  edge  of  the  cliff  into  the  sea. 
The  swineherds  tore  their  hair  when  they  saw  the 
herd  rush  into  the  sea.  They  ran  to  the  cliff 
edge  and  looked  over  to  see  where  the  swine  were 
drowning  in  the  deep  water  below. 

"It  is  your  fault,"  they  cried  to  the  men.  "You 
rushed  them  down  the  hillside.  We  had  but  left 
them  for  a  moment  and,  behold,  they  are  all  lost ! 
What  shall  we  tell  our  master?  We  cannot  save 
them  now.  It  is  your  fault."  And  they  men 
aced  the  men.  But  the  men  answered  back: 

"How  could  we  tell  they  would  run  like  that? 
It  was  not  our  fault.  We  came  to  help  you,  and 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  15 

you  say  it  was  our  fault."  And  the  man  whc 
had  spoken  to  Jesus  about  the  madman  cried  oul 
suddenly: 

"It  is  the  devils.  They  went  into  the  swine, 
Did  you  not  see  how  they  left  the  madman*? 
They  talked  with  the  Rabbi,  and  he  gave  permis 
sion  for  them  to  enter  into  the  swine." 

"But  they  were  not  his  swine,"  cried  the  herds. 
"What  right  had  he  to  drown  our  swine?" 

"They  were  unclean  beasts,  and  only  fit  for 
devils,"  cried  the  man.  "It  is  not  lawful  to  keep 
such  beasts.  Come,  and  ask  for  yourselves."  And 
he  brought  the  herds  to  where  Jesus  sat  with  the 
poor  madman,  now  soothed  and  quiet,  at  his  feet. 
And  they  told  Jesus,  and  asked  him  if  it  were  not 
true  that  the  devils  had  entered  into  the  swine 
out  of  the  man;  and  he  questioned  them,  and 
when  they  told  how  the  pigs  had  rushed  down 
the  hillside  when  they  had  tried  to  drive  them, 
he  was  sad,  and  said: 

"They  were  afraid.  It  was  the  same  devil  that 
possessed  this  man."  But  the  men  did  not  un 
derstand. 

"It  must  be  so,"  said  one  swineherd  to  the 
other.  "We  will  go  and  tell  our  master.  How 
could  we  watch  against  demons?  He  will  surely 
see  that  it  was  not  our  fault." 

By  this  time  a  crowd  had  gathered  from  the 


16  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

boats  and  from  the  countiyside,  and  they  stood 
and  watched  Jesus  and  the  madman  as  if  they 
could  not  believe  their  eyes. 

"Will  any  man  give  clothes  to  the  naked'?" 
Jesus  asked  them,  and  they  ran  to  find  clothes 
and  brought  food,  which  they  put  before  the  man. 
But  all  the  time  they  were  afraid,  for  the  rumour 
had  gone  abroad  that  Jesus  had  sent  the  devils 
into  the  swine,  and  they  feared  the  next  thing. 
When  the  swineherds  returned  with  their  master, 
and  he  saw  the  madman  sitting  clothed,  he,  too, 
was  afraid.  And  he  talked  with  the  crowd,  and 
some  of  them  came  forward,  and  he  asked  if  they 
might  speak,  and  when  Jesus  gave  them  leave, 
they  begged  him  to  go  away  out  of  their  country, 
for  they  had  fear  of  him.  And  Jesus,  looking  at 
them,  saw  that  it  was  true,  for  they  trembled  as 
they  spoke,  and  he  had  compassion  on  them,  and 
said  that  he  would  go,  and  he  went  down  to  the 
boats. 

Peter  was  there,  ready  to  put  out,  for  he  had 
heard  the  rumour,  and  knew  the  people  were 
afraid.  And  the  poor  Tnadman  came  too,  and 
pressed  upon  Jesus  that  he  might  come  with  him, 
but  Jesus  refused  him,  and  told  him  he  must  go 
home. 

"You  will  be  better  at  home,"  he  said;  "go  to 
your  own  people  and  tell  them  of  all  God  has 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  17 

done  for  you,  and  how  he  took  pity  on  you,"  and 
he  told  the  crowd  that  they  were  to  care  for  him. 

"They  will  do  him  no  injury,"  Peter  muttered, 
as  I  helped  him  to  push  off.  "They  will  be  too 
much  afraid  that  the  devils  will  come  back,  and, 
perhaps,  enter  into  their  cattle  this  time.  The 
Master  was  right  to  smite  iniquity.  It  was  well 
done  to  destroy  those  unclean  beasts.  It  was  sin 
to  keep  them." 

But  he  said  no  word  to  Jesus,  and  he  would 
not  heed  when  I  tried  to  tell  what  kind  of  devil 
it  was  that  Jesus  had  sent  out  of  the  madman, 
and  that  had  entered  into  the  swine. 


II 


LUKE  was  a  jus£  man,  but  he  did  not  love 
easily.  He  had  an  inquiring  mind,  always 
searching  out  causes,  and  he  watched  and  weighed 
his  fellow  men  before  he  joined  his  mind  to  theirs. 
He  was  a  physician,  and  he  followed  Jesus  at 
nrsjt  because  he  was  curigjis  to  see  him  heal  dis 
ease.  Afterwards  he  followed  him  because  he 
loved  Jrim.  Luke  met  all  men  with  curiosity, 
but  John  met  them  with  loire.  John  would  have 
loved  even  the  Pharisees,  if  any  man  could  love 
a  Pharisee ;  but  Luke  hated  them  because  they 
/sought  to  stop  inquiry.  [It  seemed  to  come  easy 
to  John  to  love}  There  was  no  bitterness  in  him, 
and  even  if  he  spoke  harshly  of  evildoers,  when 
he  met  them  face  to  face  he  was  always  ready  to 
lovejthem.  \lt  was  small  wonder  that  men  made 
him  their  friend^  Luke  was  sure  of  himself.  If 
he  did  not  know,  he  felt  he  would  some  day  find 
knowledge;  but  John  was  meek  at  heart.  He 
was  always  prone  to  believe  that  otheronen  knew 
better  than  he  did,  and  tha.t,  I  think,  was  why 
he  loved  Jesus.  He  leant  on  him,  finding  rest 

is 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  19 

in  him  from  his  own  uncertainty.  For  there  was 
no  uncertainty  in  Jesus.  His  speech  was  direct 
and  swift,  and  his  look  a  keen  swore}.,  I  have 
seen  him  cow  even  the  Pharisees.  That  Sabbath 
day  when  he  healed  the  man  with  the  withered 
arm,  his  speech  was  like  a  fierce  flame,  and  the 
Pharisees  could  not  stand  before  it. 

There  had  been  much  talk  of  Jesus  and  of 
how  he  spent  the  seventh  day.  The  Pharisees 
condemned  him,  and  said  he  did  evil  because  he 
walked  and  talked  with  his  friends  on  the  Sab 
bath,  even  though  they  knew  that  most  of  his 
friends  worked  for  their  bread  on  six  days  of  the 
week,  and  if  they  had  not  used  the  leisure  of  the 
seventh  would  have  seen  little  of  Jesus.  But  the 
Pharisees  grumbled,  for  they  were  tyrants.  What 
matters,  said  each  Pharisee  in  his  heart,  that  the 
Romans  rule  over  men's  bodies  if  we  can  tie  their 
souls'?  So  they  strove  always  to  bind  men  by 
their  rules.  They  rebuked  Luke  because  he  was 
curious_tpinolmj^Jn^p__things,  and  condemned 
him  when  he  made  answer  and  questioned  them, 
disputing  their  authority.  So,  too,  they  who 
toiled  not  sought  to  parcel  out  the  leisure  that 
the  seventh  day  brought  to  men  like  Peter,  whose 
days  were  spent  in  labour.  They  hated  Jesus, 
who  spoke  against  their  rules  and  wished  men  to 
be  happy,  and  therefore  they  tried  always  to  trap 


20  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

him  in  argument  and  to  put  him  in  the  wrong 
before  the  people. 

That  Sabbath  morning  Luke  and  I  had  followed 
Jesus  and  John  and  the  others  through  the  corn 
fields,  and  as  we  went  Luke  talked  to  me  of  Jesus 
and  of  how  he  answered  the  Pharisees. 

"Not  once  have  I  seen  him  snared  by  them," 
he  said.  "He  knows  the  law  better  than  they 
do,  and  when  they  come  in  their  long  garments, 
with  texts  on  their  lips,  he  answers  them  out  of 
the  Scriptures  and  confounds  them.  Were  you 
there  when  they  rebuked  him  because  Peter's 
hands  were  dirty?" 

"No,"  I  answered,  "a  man  of  Peter's  trade 
would  be  hard  put  to  it  if  he  had  always  to  keep 
his  hands  clean." 

"Ah,  but  he  was  eating,"  Luke  made  reply. 
"It  was  by  the  lake,  and  the  fishermen  had  pulled 
up  their  boats,  and  were  about  to  eat  their  bread 
when  the  Pharisees  came  up.  Peter  and  the  rest 
were  sweaty  and  dirty  after  their  morning's  work 
(they  had  been  on  the  lake  since  dawn),  while 
the  Pharisees  were  clean  and  cool  in  their  un 
stained  robes.  They  stood  and  watched  Peter 
break  his  bread.  Andrew,  too,  had  dirty  hands, 
and  the  Pharisees  watched  him  also,  and  the 
others  as  well.  When  they  had  gazed  their  fill 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  21 

(and  no  man  likes  to  be  gazed  at  when  at  meat), 
they  said  to  Jesus: 

"  'Why  do  you  not  see  to  it  that  your  disciples 
follow  the  traditions  of  our  ancestors'?  Their 
hands  are  defiled.'  Peter  flushed  to  the  eyes.  He 
takes  offence  easily,  as  you  know,  but  it  was  an 
affront  to  him,  and  the  others  were  hurt,  too. 
Jesus  looked  at  their  faces,  and  when  he  saw 
they  were  hurt  he  spoke  swiftly. 

"  'It  is  easy  for  those  who  toil  not  to  be  clean. 
Peter's  hands  are  dirty  now,  for  he  is  working 
for  the  living  of  his  wife  and  mother.  Is  it  not 
God's  commandment  that  you  honour  your 
father  and  mother?' 

"Mathias  made  answer  that  it  was  also  the  law 
to  v/ash  before  eating." 

"Mathias,"  I  cried,  "was  Mathias  there?" 

"He  was  one  of  them,"  said  Luke.  "I  do  not 
know  if  Jesus  had  heard  of  him.  I  do  not  think 
he  had.  But  let  me  tell,  and  you  shall  judge. 
While  Mathias  spoke  Jesus  watched  his  face,  and 
when  he  had  finished  speaking  he  still  watched 
for  a  space  before  he  answered.  Then  he  said : 

"  'Isaiah  spoke  well  when  he  said  of  hypo 
crites — "they  honour  me  with  their  lips,  but  their 
hearts  are  far  from  me."  Which~is~better?  To 
eat  with  hands  soiled  in  the  service  of  your  par 
ents,  like  Peter  here,  or  to  keep  clean  hands  while 


22  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

neglecting  to  serve  them?  Does  it  suffice  to  pay 
lip-service  to  your  parents  and  leave  them  to  hun 
ger"?  Is  God  so  small  that  he  approves  when  you 
purchase  honour  for  yourselves  by  giving  to  him 
what  ought  to  keep  others  from  want1?'  _J 

"Mathias  was  abashed,  and  had  no  answer.  I 
do  not  know  if  Jesus  knew  of  his  gifts  to  the 
Temple  or  if  he  but  read  his  heart.  What  think 
you?" 

"Are  his  parents  in  poverty?"  I  asked. 

"It  is  said  so,"  answered  Luke.  "There  was 
much  talk  about  it  when  the  High  Priest  praised 
him  for  his  gifts." 

"If  Jesus  had  been  told  he  would  not  have 
spoken,"  I  said.  "He  read  his  heart." 

"I  thought  it  must  be  as  you  say,"  said  Luke. 
"For  afterwards  he  called  them  and  said  that  his 
meaning  was  that  nothing  could  defile  a  man  but 
his  own  evil  thoughts  and  all  the  imaginations 
that  coming  out  from  him  end  in  evil  deeds.  Eat* 
ing  with  dirty  hands  could  but  defile  his  body, 
but  would  leave  his  soul  untouched." 

"And  Mathias?"   I  asked. 

"He  went  humbly  away,  separating  himself 
from  the  others.  I  think  Jesus  did  but  read  his 
heart,  and  Mathias  knew,  for  he  was  ashamed." 

By  this  time  we  had  reached  the  end  of  the 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  23 

corn  land,  and  on  the  track  beyond  we  saw  a 
group  of  men  standing. 

"See,  the  Pharisees  are  lying  in  wait  for  him. 
Let  us  hear  what  they  have  to  say,"  said  Luke. 
And  we  went  forward  to  join  Jesus  and  the  others. 

Some  of  the  disciples  as  they  walked  through 
the  field  had  plucked  the  ears  of  corn,  and  idly 
rubbing  them  between  their  palms  had  blown 
away  the  chaff,  and  were  chewing  the  grain* 
There  is  a  clean  taste  about  grain  rubbed  straight 
from  the  ear,  and  it  is  pleasant  to  eat. 

"They  have  a  grievance  to  put  before  him," 
whispered  Luke.  "What  have  they  fastened  on 
now?' 

The  spokesman  of  the  Pharisees  was  a  tall, 
old  man  with  narrow  eyes  and  hard  lips.  He 
pointed  to  Peter. 

"Look,"  he  said  to  Jesus,  "why  are  your  dis 
ciples  doing  what  is  not  allowed  on  the  Sab 
bath?' 

Jesus's  eyes  followed  the  gesture  of  the  Phari 
see,  and  for  a  moment  he  searched  Peter  to  see 
what  was  wrong.  Peter's  jaws  were  still  work 
ing  and  when  Jesus  saw  the  grain  in  his  hands 
he  smiled  as  he  turned  to  the  Pharisees. 

"Is  it  the  grain1?"  he  asked.  His  eyes  were 
clear  and  gay,  and  in  his  face,  burnt  brown  by  the 


24  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

sun,  was  the  joy  of  a  young  man  who  rejoices 
in  life. 

"Have  you  never  read  what  David  did  when 
he  was  hungry4?"  he  said  to  the  Pharisees,  and 
he  smiled  at  them  even  as  he  caught  them  in 
their  own  trap.  It  was  as  if  he  would  have  had 
them  also  for  friends,  for  he  mocked  them  gaily 
as  friend  mocks  friend. 

"Do  you  not  remember  that  he  went  into  the 
Temple  with  his  friends  and  asked  the  High 
Priest  to  give  him  the  Holy  Bread,  and  the  High 
Priest  gave  them  the  bread  for  which  David  had 
asked?" 

The  Pharisees  were  silent.  No  man  gave  back 
smile  for  smile. 

Jesus  spoke  on,  still  smiling. 

"And  do  not  the  Priests  in  the  Temple  break 
the  Sabbath  every  seventh  day,  and  yet  are  not 
counted  guilty?" 

"It  is  not  the  same  thing,"  said  the  Pharisee 
eagerly. 

"Why  not?"  asked  Jesus. 

"David  was  about  the  king's  business,"  said 
the  old  man. 

"Are  not  these  men  about  the  business  of  God?" 
asked  Jesus.  "They  have  toiled  all  the  week, 
and  rest  now  to  prepare  for  the  toil  of  another 
week.  Is  not  that  the  business  of  God?" 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  25 

"They  are  only  fishermen,  but  the  Priests  are 
the  servants  of  God,"  said  the  old  man,  sourly. 

"Are  not  these  men  also  the  servants  of  God?" 
Jesus  questioned,  but  the  Pharisee  would  not 
answer. 

"They  are  not  as  David  or  as  the  Priests,"  he 
repeated  doggedly.  "They  are  only  fishermen,, 
and  they  are  breaking  God's  law." 

And  the  other  Pharisees  murmured  agreement. 

The  gaiety  left  the  face  of  Jesus,  and  the  mirth 
departed  from  his  speech. 

"Where  did  you  learn  God's  law,  you  who 
know  nothing  of  God  himself*?"  he  said.  "Your 
talk  of  God  is  only  hearsay.  Your  only  knowl 
edge  of  him  is  what  you  have  heard  other  men 
tell  of  him.  If  you  had  known  him  of  yourselves 
you  would  understand  what  he  meant  when  he 
said'vT  desire  mercy,  not  sacrifices,'  and  you  would 
not  condemn  the  guiltless.  You  can  have  no 
friendship  with  God  yourselves,  for  if  you  were 
his  friends  you  would  know  that  he  made  the 
Sabbath  for  men  and  not  men  for  the  Sabbath. 
Come,  let  us  go,"  he  said  to  the  disciples,  and 
went  on,  leaving  the  Pharisees  in  the  roadway. 

"They  are  angry  because  they  cannot  find  an 
answer,"  said  Luke;  and  we  joined  ourselves  on 
to  Jesus  and  walked  with  him. 

It  was  as  if  a  cloud  had  come  over  the  sun, 


26  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

for  the  joy  had  died  out  of  him  and  his  face 
was  sad. 

"The  Pharisees  seek  to  tie  all  men  down  by 
their  own  rules,"  he  said,  and  Luke  questioned: 

"Are  there  to  be  no  rules'?" 

"Rules  forced  upon  a  man  against  his  will  from 
without  must  be  broken,  or  his  soul  is  lost,"  said 
Jesus.  '"Only  the  rules  to  which  a  man  consents 
within  himself  can  standby  The  Pharisees  make 
their  own  opinions  rules  for  all,  and  so  lay  bur 
dens  too  heavy  to  be  borne  upon  the  shoulders  of 
men.  They  do  not  wish  men  to  be  happy." 

"They  are  against  all  those  who  search  for 
truth,"  said  Luke,  and  Jesus  smiled  upon  him  as 
he  answered: 

"All  men  are  ±ar  from  truth,  but  those  who 
put  the  Law  before  kindliness  will  never  find  it./ 
The  Pharisees  err  because  they  do  not  know  that 
if  a  man  love  not  he  cannot  have  vision."] 

Luke  questioned  him  further,  seeking  to  find 
how  the  Pharisees  had  fallen  into  error,  and  how 
love  could  give  them  vision,  and  Jesus  smiled 
again  as  he  answered  him. 

"It  is  because  of  the  hardness  of  their  hearts. 
They  mistrust  all  men,  therefore  their  eyes  are 
holden." 

And  when  Luke  questioned  still  more,  he  said: 

"See  you,  are  not  we  all  members  one  of  another 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  27 

and  therefore  how  can  one  man  find  truth  for 
himself?  If  his  opinions  make  him  hate  his  fel 
low  men,  let  him  cast  them  out,  for  he  may  be 
sure  he  is  far  from  God  when  he  is  divided  from 
his  fellows." 

"But  he  may  know  more  than  they,  and  they 
be  unwilling  to  listen  to  him,"  said  Luke. 

"Let  him  keep  silent  then,  and  love  his  neigh 
bour,  and  his  reward  will  follow,"  said  Jesus. 

By  this  time  we  had  come  to  the  synagogue, 
and  Jesus  led  the  way  into  it.  The  Pharisees  had 
gone  round  by  another  path,  and  the  synagogue 
was  full  of  them  and  of  their  friends.  Jesus 
went  apart  and  prayed  in  silence,  and  for  a  time 
we  prayed  also,  and  then  Luke  touched  me  and 
I  looked  round. 

The  Pharisees  were  thronged  together,  and  in 
their  midst  slowly  pushing  his  way  forward  was 
a  man.  His  garments  were  old,  and  as  he  pushed 
his  way,  he  looked  from  face  to  face  as  if  seek 
ing  some  one. 

"See,  his  arm  is  withered.  He  seeks  Jesus. 
He  would  be  healed,"  said  Luke,  and,  as  he  spoke, 
the  man  caught  sight  of  Jesus,  who  had  finished 
his  prayer,  and  who  stood  alone,  the  Pharisees 
having  fallen  back  on  all  sides  of  him.  The  man 
pushed  on  through  the  crowd,  till  he  came  to 
within  a  few  paces  of  Jesus.  Here  he  stopped, 


28  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

and,  with  the  Pharisees  thronged  behind  him, 
stood  still  and  looked  at  Jesus.  He  spoke  no 
word,  nor  did  the  Pharisees,  but  each  in  his  heart 
knew  that  the  man  pleaded  for  healing. 

Jesus  looked  at  the  man,  with  his  useless  arm 
and  that  woeful  entreaty  in  his  eyes.  Then  he 
looked  round  the  circle  of  Pharisees,  his  gaze 
dwelling  on  one  face  after  another,  as  if  seeking 
leave  to  help.  No  man  answered  that  look. 
Jesus  said  to  the  man: 

"Stand  forth  in  the  middle,"  and  the  man,  poor, 
pitiable  creature,  stepped  forth,  his  ragged  haik 
hanging  from  him  in  such  wise  that  his  withered 
arm  could  be  seen  of  all  men  and  his  misery  made 
manifest. 

Again  Jesus  made  question  of  the  faces  round 
him,  and  with  wonder,  as  if,  having  shown  them 
the  man's  misery,  he  marvelled  that  they  could 
withhold  leave  to  show  mercy.  There  was  neither 
pity  nor  mercy  in  those  bitter  faces,  and  after  a 
silence,  Jesus  spoke: 

"Is  it  lawful  to  do  good  on  the  Sabbath?"  he 
asked,  "or  only  harm1?  May  I  save  life,  or  only 
destroy  it?" 

There  was  no  answer.  No  matter  what  the 
misery,  rules  must  not  be  broken.  The  man  must 
suffer. 

Once  more,  for  the  last  time,  Jesus  searched 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  29 

their  faces,  and  then,  suddenly,  his  eyes  lit  up, 
and  it  was  as  if  a  lightning  had  flashed  across 
the  synagogue.  His  anger  was  so  vivid  and  strong 
that  the  Pharisees  fell  back  in  fear,  and  huddled 
one  upon  another. 

Jesus  turned  to  the  man  and  spoke. 

"Stretch  forth  your  hand !"  he  commanded,  and 
the  power  that  went  from  him  to  the  man  was  a 
power  that  confounded  and  conquered  tyranny. 
The  man,  his  pleading  dog's  eyes  still  fixed  on 
Jesus's  face,  stretched  forth  his  hand,  and  to  the 
amazement  of  all  men,  it  was  whole. 

It  was  after  that  healing  that  the  Pharisees 
began  to  plot  how  to  kill  him. 


Ill 


IT  was  in  the  house  of  Simon  that  I  first  saw 
Jesus.  Simon  was  a  Pharisee,  but  not  of  the 
stricter  sort.  He  mixed  much  with  the  Gentiles, 
and  spake  often  of  great  Rome  which  he  had 
visited,  and  of  its  iniquities  into  which  he  had 
made  curious  inquiry.  He  was  rich  and  had 
many  friends,  for  he  liked  to  know  all  men  and 
to  hear  of  every  new  thing.  It  was  rumoured  that 
if  there  was  much  talk  of  any  man,  Simon  would 
seek  him  out  and  ask  him  to  meat;  but  I  do  not 
know  the  truth  of  this. 

It  was  some  time  after  men  first  began  to  talk 
of  Jesus  that  one  day  I  met  Simon,  and  he  asked 
if  I  had  heard  of  the  new  Prophet.  I  answered 
that  no  man  could  avoid  hearing  of  him,  so  great 
was  the  talk,  and  he  said: 

"He  eats  meat  at  my  house  to-day.  Come  and 
see  him  there.  Levi  is  coming,  and  I  have  asked 
a  few  dancing  girls,  harlots  though  they  be." 

I  was  astonished  and  said : 

"But,  Simon,  I  hear  this  Jesus  is  a  follower  of 
John  the  Baptizer,  and  he  scorned  the  flesh.  His 
followers  fast  and  pray  without  ceasing." 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  31 

"This  prophet  does  not  fast,"  said  Simon,  wag 
ging  his  beard.  "He  is  not  like  John.  John  had 
a  demon,  but  Jesus  likes  music  and  feasting.  They 
say  he  consorts  much  with  the  lewder  sort,  and 
makes  his  friends  of  publicans  and  outcasts.  He 
has  bewitched  Levi,  who  has  thrown  up  his  tax- 
gathering  to  follow  him.  But  come  and  see  for 
yourself.  If  he  be  a  prophet,  he  will  know  what 
manner  of  women  these  dancing  girls  are,  and 
be  on  his  guard  against  them." 

He  went  on  his  way  and  I  on  mine,  and  as  I 
walked  I  pondered  on  what  he  had  said,  and 
after  a  space  I  turned  aside  into  the  Street  of 
the  Prostitutes  to  seek  out  Mary  of  Magdala,  who 
had  her  dwelling  there.  Mary,  like  Simon,  knew 
all  men,  and  was  known  of  all.  She  could  tell 
me  more  of  this  Jesus.  Mary's  house,  like  Ra- 
hab's,  was  on  the  wall,  and  there  I  found  her  in 
the  outer  room,  seated  on  a  carpet  making  play 
with  a  stringed  instrument,  while  she  listened  to 
the  talk  of  the  men  around  her.  She  was  a  beau 
tiful  woman,  upright  as  a  flame,  with  hair  like  a 
raven's  wing,  and  deep  dark  eyes.  Her  voice  was 
beautiful,  too,  with  a  little  hoarse  break  in  it 
when  she  was  moved  that  stirred  men's  hearts. 

When  I  had  greeted  her  I  told  her  I  had  come 
for  tidings  of  the  new  Prophet,  and  she  answered 


32  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

scornfully  with  a  wave  of  her  hand  towards  her 
companions. 

"They  talk  of  nothing  but  the  new  Prophet. 
He  has  turned  men's  heads." 

"But  you  know,  Mary,"  cried  Sadoc,  a  young 
fop  who  aped  the  Roman  way  of  speech.  "He 
is  so  new.  We  have  not  had  one  of  his  sort  be 
fore." 

'Old  prophet  or  new  prophet,"  said  Mary, 
"it  matters  nothing  to  me.  Prophets  come  not 
my  way." 

"You  need  not  fear  him,  Mary,"  said  another 
man  jestingly.  "He  will  not  be  hard  on  you. 
Have  you  not  heard  what  he  said  when  they  haled 
that  other  woman  before  him1?" 

"What  woman*?"  asked  Mary,  idly  twanging 
the  strings  of  her  instrument. 

"I  do  not  know  her  name,"  said  the  man.  "But 
they  caught  her  in  her  guilt,  and  dragged  her  to 
the  new  Prophet  for  condemnation.  When  they 
accused  her  to  him — and  they  had  caught  her  in 
the  very  act — at  first  he  would  say  nothing,  and 
when  they  pressed  him  for  a  judgment,  he  said  if 
there  was  one  man  there  who  had  never  sinned 
with  a  woman,  he  could  cast  the  first  stone." 

Mary  looked  up  suddenly. 

"And  was  there?"  she  asked  with  that  hoarse 
break  in  her  voice. 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  33 

The  men  laughed. 

"Of  course  not.  What  man  could  say  that1?" 
cried  one  of  them. 

"Of  course  not,"  Mary  echoed.  "And  the 
woman"?  What  happened  to  her*?" 

"They  left  her  with  the  Prophet.  I  do  not 
know  what  he  said.  But  he  sent  her  away,  for 
she  still  lives." 

"Perchance  he  sent  her  for  the  man,"  said  Mary. 

"What  man?"  asked  the  other. 

"The  man  who  shared  her  guilt.  Is  it  not  the 
Law  that  he  be  stoned,  too?  Why  did  they  not 
take  him  also  before  the  Prophet?" 

The  men  laughed  again. 

"I  suppose  he  did  not  wait  to  be  taken,  but  fled 
like  Joseph,"  said  the  man  who  had  told  the  tale. 

"Leaving  the  woman  to  be  stoned?"  said  Mary. 
"And  this  Prophet  had  mercy.  What  did  you 
say  his  name  was?" 

"He  is  called  Jesus.     He  is  from  Nazareth." 

"Do  not  be  uneasy,  Mary,"  said  Sadoc.  "No 
man  could  condemn  you.  You  are  too  beautiful." 

"If  my  beauty  is  all  that  saves  me  from  con 
demnation  I  have  poor  protection,"  said  Mary. 

"Even  a  prophet  could  see  how  beautiful  you 
are,"  said  the  fop  in  his  foolish  voice. 

"John  did  not  see  the  beauty  of  Salome,"  said 
Mary  shortly- 


34  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

"John  was  possessed,"  said  one  of  the  men. 
"This  Jesus  is  different.  He  knows  what  men 
are." 

Mary  rose  suddenly  from  her  carpet,  flinging 
the  instrument  aside. 

"Can  any  prophet  know  men  as  we,  we  harlots, 
do?"  she  asked,  and  we  all  stood  silent,  amazed 
at  her  passion. 

"I  will  go  to  Simon's  and  see  this  man,"  she 
said,  and  went  towards  the  inner  chambers  of 
her  house. 

"Stay,  Mary,"  cried  Sadoc.  "I  have  a  gift  for 
thee";  but  she  did  not  heed  him,  but  went  in, 
leaving  him  there  on  the  threshold.  He  turned 
back  to  us,  and  showed  us  an  alabaster  box  which 
he  held  in  his  hand. 

"I  will  wait  and  give  her  this  when  she  has 
recovered  from  her  anger,"  he  said.  "Mary  loves 
perfumes,  and  this  is  priceless.  One  drop  will 
perfume  a  whole  room." 

We  left  him  there,  and  I  walked  down  the 
Street  of  the  Prostitutes  with  one  of  the  other 
men,  who  said:  "That  fool  Sadoc  wishes  to  buy 
Mary's  love,  but  she  will  have  none  of  him.  He 
has  great  riches,  but  Mary  is  not  like  other  harlots 
to  be  bought  for  a  price  of  any  man." 

"How,  then,  did  she  become  such  a  one?"  I 
asked. 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  35 

"They  say  her  lover  deserted  her.  She  was  not 
brought  up  to  the  trade.  Her  people  are  respect 
able  citizens  of  Bethany.  Think  you  she  will  go 
to  Simon's?" 

"He  told  me  he  had  dancing  girls.  Why  not 
Mary,  too?'  I  said. 

"Dancing  girls  to  amuse  a  prophet?  What  is 
the  world  coming  to!  John  would  have  cursed 
them,"  said  the  man  with  a  laugh. 

There  was  a  great  crowd  outside  Simon't  house 
when  we  reached  it.  The  Prophet  had  just  gone 
in,  and  the  people  lingered,  hoping  to  see  him 
again. 

"All  the  world  is  running  after  this  Jesus," 
said  my  companion  as  we  pressed  through  the 
throng  in  the  courtyard  into  the  house. 

Inside  there  were  many  people,  and  I  could 
not  see  Simon.  I  separated  from  my  companion 
and  stood  apart,  waiting  for  Simon  to  show  me 
my  place.  As  I  waited  I  searched  the  faces  if 
perchance  I  might  be  able  to  pick  out  the  Prophet 
from  the  other  men  before  Simon  came  and 
pointed  him  out.  It  is  always  an  interest  to 
watch  the  faces  of  men,  and  here,  though  there 
were  many  I  knew,  there  were  some  whom  I  had 
never  seen  before.  There  were  faces  beautiful  and 
ugly,  gloomy  or  gay,  subtile  or  foolish.  Some  men 
were  talking,  some  silent,  most  were  in  washed 


36  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

white  raiment  with  newly-rolled  headgear.  My 
eyes  wandered  from  one  to  another,  and  then  fell 
on  a  group  of  men  in  a  corner  and  stopped,  ar 
rested  by  the  face  of  one  of  them. 

It  was  not  its  beauty  that  chained  my  eyes, 
though  it  was  a  face  beautiful  to  look  upon.  Nor 
was  it  the  light  in  the  eyes,  though  that  rejoiced 
the  heart.  It  was  the  tranquillity  of  the  face  that 
held  me;  a  tranquillity,  not  of  sloth  or  emptiness, 
but  of  surety;  the  tranquillity  of  one  who  rested 
in  a  certainty  greater  than  other  men  knew. 

"That  man  has  the  secret  of  life,"  I  thought, 
and  as  if  I  had  spoken  the  words  aloud  the  man's 
eyes  turned,  and  his  gaze  met  mine. 

There  was  something  in  the  look  that  stirred 
my  soul.  The  tranquillity  did  not  leave  his  face, 
but  there  came  a  questioning  into  his  eyes,  and 
then  a  wistfulness  that  melted  me  to  pity. 

"He  is  lonely,"  I  thought.  "He  seeks  friends. 
He  asks  somewhat  of  me."  And  my  heart  leapt 
within  me.  The  eyes  held  mine  for  a  moment, 
and  then  some  man  spoke  and  he  turned  to  answer. 

I  do  not  remember  the  next  thing.  I  was  like 
a  man  who  sees  a  vision  in  a  crowd  and  straight 
way  forgets  all  but  his  vision.  Mary  must  have 
come  in,  for  there  was  a  stir  about  me  of  men 
pressing  forward  to  see,  and  some  one  spat  on  the 
ground  as  she  passed.  When  I  came  to  mvseli 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  37 

the  guests  had  gone  into  the  inner  rooms  to  eat. 
I  did  not  follow  them.  My  mind  was  set  on  that 
question  in  the  eyes  of  Jesus.  He  asks  some 
thing  of  me,  I  thought.  What  is  it4?  Would  he 
count  me,  too,  among  his  friends'? 

I  do  not  know  how  long  I  sat  there,  but,  after 
a  time,  Simon  came  out.  When  he  saw  me  he 
came  and  sat  beside  me,  and  wiped  his  brow  with 
the  edge  of  his  robe. 

I  called  my  attention  back  and  regarded  him. 
His  face  was  flushed  and  he  was  uneasy. 

"You  have  not  gone  in?"  he  said.  "Mary  has 
been  making  a  fool  of  herself.  There  is  some 
thing  about  Jesus,  I  know  not  what.  He  re 
buked  me  to  my  face,  but  I  cannot  bear  malice, 
Mary  has  wasted  her  perfume,  and  my  party  is 
spoilt." 

"What  has  happened?'  I  asked. 

"I  do  not  know.  Jesus  did  nothing  that  I  saw. 
She  wept,  and  poured  the  perfume  on  his  feet 
and  wiped  them  with  the  hair  of  her  head.  You 
can  never  count  on  a  woman.  Their  ways  are 
always  crooked." 

It  was  then  that  Mary  came  forth,  followed  by 
that  foolish  fop,  Sadoc,  and  by  some  other  men. 
Her  face  was  stained  with  the  tears  she  had  shed 
and  her  eyelids  swollen. 


38  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

Simon  rose  up  to  meet  her,  but  before  he  could 
speak  she  cried  out : 

"Do  not  reproach  me,  Simon.  I  meant  but  to 
look  upon  the  Prophet,  but  Sadoc's  perfume  was 
in  my  hand  and  I  could  not  help  myself." 

"He  rebuked  me  to  my  face  because  of  you," 
muttered  Simon. 

"And  well  you  deserved  it,  Simon.  You  of 
fered  him  no  honour.  You  gave  him  no  kiss.  No, 
not  even  wherewithal  to  wash  the  dust  from  his 
feet.  He  alone  saw  that  that  was  why  I  did  it. 
Even  honour  paid  by  a  harlot  is  better  than  no 
honour  at  all.  See,  I  am  weeping  again."  And 
the  tears  fell  from  her  eyes. 

"How  was  I  to  know  he  would  expect  honour4?" 
said  Simon,  and  he  went  away  into  the  inner 
room. 

"Do  not  weep,  Mary,"  said  one  of  the  men. 
"He  had  no  right  to  upset  you  so.  Who  is  he  to 
forgive  sins  and  call  other  people  sinners'?" 

"He  did  not  say  he  forgave  my  sins.  He  said 
they  were  forgiven.  And  I  am  a  sinner.  But  I 
will  never  sin  again." 

"You  are  not  going  to  desert  us,  Mary,"  cried 
Sadoc  in  distress,  catching  her  by  the  sleeve. 

"How  can  I  help  deserting  you  when  I  have 
^seen  something  higher?"  she  replied. 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  39 

"You  are  going  to  that  Jesus,"  said  the  fop  in 
disgust. 

Mary  turned  on  him,  her  eyes  flashing  under 
her  painted  brows. 

"You  fool !  You  fool !  Are  you  blind  that 
you  cannot  see  he  is  too  great  for  that  folly  *?  He 
knows  the  bitterness  that  lies  in  the  heart  of  a 
harlot.  He  will  never  add  to  that  pain." 

"He  will  never  love  you  as  I  do,"  said  Sadoc. 

"Love!"  cried  Mary.  "For  years  have  I  been 
the  vessel  of  men's  lusts,  and  it  was  never  love 
they  brought  me.  I  know,  for  I  have  loved.  Love 
is  a  giving.  And  I  have  given,  with  both  hands 
have  I  given,  and  never  have  I  had  aught  but  lust 
in  return.  And  never  till  this  day  has -any  man 
seen  that  I  loved." 

"He  will  desert  you,  Mary,"  said  one  of  the 
men. 

"Are  you  all  blind  that  you  say  such  things'?" 
she  said.  "Can  you  not  see  that  he  loves  the  soul 
of  every  man?  He  will  never  lust  to  possess  the 
body.  If  he  makes  me  his  friend  he  will  never 
desert  me." 

"How  do  you  know  so  much  about  him, 
Mary1?"  asked  Sadoc,  curiously.  "You  have  but 
seen  him." 

Mary  looked  bewildered. 

"I  do  not  know,"  she  said. 


40  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

"Was  it  because  he  looked  at  you,  Mary"?"  I 
asked,  my  vision  returning  to  me. 

Mary  turned  to  me  in  amazement. 

"How  did  you  know?  Were  you  there"?  He 
looked  at  me,  and  I  know  not  what  came  upon  me. 
It  seemed  as  if  life  were  not  so  evil  as  I  had 
thought,  or  men  so  wicked.  It  was  as  if  he  called 
me.  I  know  not  where  I  go,  but  I  know  I  must 
follow." 

She  went  out,  and  after  a  space  the  men  went 
after  her,  but  I  lingered,  hoping  to  see  Jesus.  But 
he  came  not  forth.  Other  men  were  leaving  the 
house,  and  after  a  time,  seeing  that  Jesus  must 
have  gone  out  by  another  way,  I  too  went.  As  I 
rose  up  to  go,  a  dark  man  with  a  lowering  face 
that  held  a  tragedy  came  forth  alone.  I  did  not 
know  him,  but  something  in  his  face  bit  into  my 
mind.  He  was  muttering  to  himself,  and  as  he 
passed  I  heard  him  say:  "It  was  worth  thirty 
pieces  of  silver.  Thirty  pieces  of  silver!" 

I  touched  the  arm  of  the  next  man. 

"Who  is  that  that  has  passed?"  I  asked. 
"There,  walking  behind  Levi  the  publican." 

"That?  Oh,  that  is  Judas  Iscariot,"  said  the 
man.  "He,  too,  is  a  follower  of  Jesus." 


IV 


THE  day  after  Simon's  party,  as  soon  as  it 
was  dawn,  I  went  out  to  seek  Jesus,  but  he 
was  not  in  the  town.  Men  told  me  that  the  vil 
lages  could  not  contain  the  crowds  that  came  to 
hear  him,  and  that  I  should  find  him  outside  in 
the  country  where  there  was  room.  I  went  out, 
but  the  crowd  was  so  great  that  I  could  not  see 
him  from  its  edge.  I  lingered,  hoping  that  by 
some  chance  the  people  might  go  away  and  I 
might  see  Jesus  alone.  All  around  me  men  were 
disputing  as  to  his  healings  and  the  number  of 
devils  he  had  cast  out,  some  saying  this  and  some 
that,  and  after  a  time  I  wearied  of  their  talk 
and  came  away. 

I  met  Sadoc  coming  out  from  the  town,  and 
he  stopped.  "Have  you  seen  aught  of  Mary?" 
he  asked.  His  foppery  had  dropped  from  him, 
and  he  was  full  of  woe.  I  told  him  that  I  had  not 
seen  her. 

"I  thought  she  might  be  outside  with  Jesus," 
he  said.  "I  have  been  to  her  house,  but  it  is  closed. 
They  say  she  was  last  seen  with  Joanna,  the  wife 
of  Chuza,  and  with  Suzanna." 

41 


42  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

"But,  Sadoc,"  I  said,  "these  are  women  of  re 
pute.  Is  it  likely  that  they  will  consort  with 
such  as  Mary?" 

"It  is  the  fault  of  Jesus,"  he  replied,  bitterly. 
"He  has  confused  them  with  talk  of  this  kingdom 
of  his,  and  now  they  follow  him.  What  a  king 
dom  !  Outcasts  and  publicans  mixed  together  with 
fishermen  and  the  wives  of  respectable  men!" 

"John  the  Baptizer  also  preached  the  kingdom 
of  God,"  I  said. 

"John  went  naked  and  starved  himself,"  cried 
Sadoc.  "None  but  the  mad  could  believe  in  his 
teaching.  But  Jesus  says  he  is  going  to  establish 
a  kingdom  here  in  our  midst  and  in  our  daily  lives, 
and  in  truth  he  has  begun,  for  he  is  plucking  our 
houses  about  our  ears." 

"I  have  not  heard  his  teaching  of  the  kingdom, 
but  men  say  he  has  wisdom,"  I  replied. 

"How  could  such  as  he  come  by  wisdom1?" 
said  Sadoc.  "He  is  the  son  of  a  carpenter,  and 
a  carpenter  himself." 

"Is  wisdom  denied  to  carpenters?"  I  asked, 
but  Sadoc  was  angry,  and  said: 

"I  see  that  you,  too,  will  soon  be  of  his  king 
dom.  They  told  me  in  the  marketplace  just  now 
that  Nicodemus  has  joined  him.  Nicodemus  is 
old,  but  he  is  too  serious.  It  is  the  fault  of  all 
Jews.  The  Romans  are  wiser.  They  live  their 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  43 

lives,  and  leave  their  gods  to  their  priests.  I 
wonder  what  Pilate  will  say  when  the  talk  of 
this  kingdom  comes  to  his  ears'?" 

"I  am  sure  you  are  mistaken,  Sadoc.  It  can 
not  be  what  you  say,"  I  said. 

"I  tell  you  that  everywhere  in  secret  men  are 
talking  of  the  new  kingdom.  Go  and  see  Nico- 
demus,  if  you  do  not  believe  me,"  said  Sadoc,  and 
he  went  away  in  wrath. 

Now,  Nicodemus  was  a  Ruler  amongst  the 
Jews,  and  I  had  known  him  from  my  childhood. 
He  was  a  quiet  man,  but  fair-minded  above  cJl 
other  men.  He  had  no  passion  but  for  justice, 
and  in  his  dealings  with  his  fellows  he  was  him 
self  just  to  the  bone.  I  determined  that  I  would 
go  to  him. 

By  this  time  it  was  midday,  and  I  found  Nico 
demus  in  his  house,  about  to  sit  down  to  eat.  He 
asked  me  to  join  him,  and  when  food  had  been 
put  before  us  I  told  him  why  I  had  come. 

"Sadoc  says  you  have  become  a  follower  of 
Jesus,  and  that  he  is  preaching  a  kingdom  not  of 
the  Romans,"  I  said. 

"Sadoc  is  a  fool,"  said  Nicodemus.  "It  is  true 
that  I  have  been  to  see  Jesus,  but  it  is  not  true 
that  he  preaches  against  Roman  rule,  or  that  I 
have  become  his  disciple." 

"What  is  this  talk  of  his  kingdom?"  I  asked, 


44  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

"Sadoc  says  it  is  more  dangerous  than  that 
preached  by  John." 

"I  have  heard  John  preach,"  said  Nicodemus. 
"He  was  a  wild,  unbalanced  man.  He  preached 
repentance,  and  denounced  all  men.  It  was  teach 
ing,  look  you,  fitted  to  make  men  think  upon 
their  sins,  but  not  to  govern  their  lives.  Jesus  is 
a  greater  than  John." 

"What,  then,  is  this  kingdom?"  I  asked. 

Nicodemus  pondered  a  moment. 

"It  is  hard  to  explain,"  he  said.  "It  has  long 
been  in  the  minds  of  men  of  our  nation  that  one 
day  God  would  rule  over  us  in  an  earthly  king 
dom.  Jesus  is  well  learned  in  the  Law,  so  he 
knows  of  that  hope.  But  his  doctrine  is  that  that 
kingdom  is  here  already." 

"But  where,"  I  cried,  "seeing  the  Romans  rule 
all  Judea?' 

"I  think  he  means  that  it  is  in  men's  hearts, 
and  has  nothing  to  do  with  their  governors.  But 
let  me  tell  you  of  what  he  said  to  me,"  said  Nico 
demus.  "I  went  to  him  by  night,  for  indeed,  it 
was  the  only  way  to  see  him  alone,  and  I  asked 
him  of  this  kingdom,  and  he  said  no  man  could 
see  the  kingdom  unless  he  was  born  again,  and 
when  I  wondered,  asking  if  a  man  could  be  born 
again  when  he  was  old,  he  said  unless  a  man  was 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  45 

born  of  the  Spirit  he  could  never  enter  the  king 
dom." 

"Then  it  is  not  a  real  kingdom?" 

Nicodemus  pondered  again  before  he  answered. 

"Yes,  it  is  real,"  he  said  at  last,  "but  he  seemed 
to  think  that  what  was  meant  by  our  Prophets 
was  that  if  you  change  men's  hearts  you  will  also 
change  their  governments.  He  spoke  out  of  an 
inner  certainty,  and  with  authority.  When  I 
questioned  him  as  to  how  a  man  could  be  born  of 
the  Spirit,  he  said  that  when  he  spoke  of  what  he 
knew,  men  would  not  accept  his  statements;  and 
if  they  would  not  believe  when  he  spoke  of  earth 
ly  things,  how  could  they  believe  if  he  spoke  of 
heavenly1?" 

"What  did  he  mean  by  that?"  I  asked. 

"His  meaning,  I  think,  was  that  if  he  tells  men 
the  way  to  enter  the  kingdom,  and  they  won't 
believe  him,  how  can  he  expect  them  to  believe 
him  if  he  tells  of  the  mysteries  of  the  Spirit?  That, 
at  least,  was  how  I  understood  him.  He  has  the 
root  of  the  matter  in  him,  and  his  teaching  is  cer 
tainly  of  God." 

"And  yet  you  have  not  become  his  follower?" 
I  said. 

"I  cannot  do  as  others  have  done,  and  throw 
up  all  to  follow  him.  I  have  taken  too  many 
duties  upon  me,"  he  answered. 


46  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

"Well,  Nicodemus,"  I  said,  as  I  rose  up  to  go, 
"I  have  it  in  my  mind  that  I  may  become  a  fol 
lower  of  Jesus.  I  go  to  seek  him  now,  to  ask  of 
this  kingdom."  And  Nicodemus  answered  sadly: 

"You  are  young,  and  I  am  old.  I  do  not  say 
that  if  I  were  thy  age,  and  not  a  Ruler  of  Israel, 
I  would  not  do  likewise.  Go,  and  God  be  with 
you." 

I  had  stayed  long  with  Nicodemus,  and  when 
I  went  forth  from  his  house  it  was  towards  eve 
ning.  I  went  out  of  the  city  by  the  same  way  in 
which  I  had  walked  at  dawn,  but  when  I  reached 
the  place  where  the  crowd-  had  been  gathered, 
there  was  no  one  there.  But  I  did  not  return  to 
the  town,  for  I  had  a  feeling  that  if  I  went  on  I 
should  come  upon  Jesus.  When  I  had  gone  for 
ward  some  distance,  I  saw  a  group  of  men  and 
some  mules  in  the  distance,  and  made  for  them. 
When  I  reached  them  I  saw  that  Jesus  was  not 
one  of  them,  and  that  they  disputed  together.  A 
young  man  in  silk  raiment  stood  in  the  middle, 
and  urged  something  upon  some  other  men,  who, 
rougher  in  manner  and  clad  in  coarser  garments, 
withstood  him.  Some  paces  behind  them  stood 
two  servants,  holding  three  mules,  one  of  which 
had  saddle-cloths  of  finely-woven  wool,  and  stir 
rups  of  silver. 

"But  I  have  come  from  far,"  said  the  young 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  47 

man,  and  one  of  the  others,  whom  later  I  knew 
to  be  Peter,  answered : 

"He  has  taught  all  day,  and  by  now  he  is  tired 
out.  He  has  but  this  moment  gone  aside  to  rest." 

The  servants  murmured  that  their  master  had 
come  a  day's  journey  to  see  the  Prophet,  and  that 
one  so  rich  should  be  honoured,  and  one  of  them 
beckoned  to  Peter  and  said  in  his  ear : 

"The  Prophet  will  not  like  it  if  you  keep  him 
back.  He  comes  to  know  what  office  he  may 
hold  in  the  kingdom." 

Peter  wavered,  and  one  of  his  companions — 
John,  I  think — said,  "We  must  not  send  them 
away.  You  know  what  he  said." 

Peter,  undecided  still,  turned  to  me  and  asked 
me  what  I  wanted. 

"I  have  come  to  speak  to  Jesus,  but  I  will  go 
now,  and  come  again  if  he  is  tired,"  I  said ;  where 
upon  John  said,  "It  will  be  better  to  show  them 
the  path."  So  Peter  led  the  way  up  a  steep  hill 
side,  and  the  young  man  went  behind  him  with 
his  servants  and  the  mules  close  at  his  heels.  I 
followed  with  John. 

"We  shall  find  him  in  the  highest  place,  where 
he  can  see  over  all  the  earth,"  said  John,  as  we 
climbed,  and  it  was  near  the  top  that  we  came 
upon  Jesus.  By  this  time  the  sun  was  beginning 
to  set,  and  a  great  peace  lay  upon  the  land.  Jesus 


48  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

sat  gazing  over  the  wide  country  that  lay  before 
him,  but  he  turned  when  he  heard  our  footsteps. 
Peter  went  up  to  him. 

"Master,  these  two  rich  men  have  come  to  speak 
to  you,"  he  said.  "John  thought  you  would  wish 
to  see  them." 

"John  was  right.  I  would  turn  none  away. 
What  do  they  need4?"  asked  Jesus. 

The  young  man  stepped  forward,  and  with 
great  courtesy  knelt  down. 

"Master,"  he  said,  "I  have  come  to  ask  you 
what  I  can  do  to  inherit  eternal  life1?" 

Jesus  regarded  him  for  a  moment,  and  his 
eyes  went  to  the  men-servants  and  the  mules,  and 
he  looked  at  them  before  he  answered.  Then  he 
said: 

"You  have  been  brought  up  in  the  command 
ments  of  Moses.  Keep  these." 

"I  have  observed  them  all,"  said  the  young 
man. 

"There  is  one  further,"  said  Jesus.  "Thou 
shalt  love  thy  neighbour  as  thyself." 

"This,  too,  have  I  done,"  said  the  young  man. 
"What  else  do  I  lack?" 

For  a  moment  there  was  silence,  and  then  Jesus 
said,  and  his  eyes  searched  the  young  man  as  he 
spoke : 

"There  is  still  one  thing  lacking.     Go  and  sell 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  49 

ill  that  thou  hast  and  give  to  the  poor,  and  then 
come  and  follow  me." 

The  young  man  rose  to  his  feet,  and  stood  si 
lent,  his  eyes  cast  on  the  ground.  The  servants 
moved  uneasily,  and  one  of  them  scratched  his 
head,  as  if  the  answer  pleased  him  not.  Jesus 
spoke  again: 

"How  is  it  you  say  you  love  your  neighbour  as 
yourself?  Is  not  your  house  full  of  goods,  while 
around  you  your  brothers,  also  sons  of  Abraham, 
are  clad  with  dung  and  dying  of  hunger?  Goeth 
there  aught  at  all  from  out  your  house  for  them?" 

The  young  man  made  no  answer.  He  did  not 
raise  his  eyes,  and,  after  a  moment,  he  turned 
aside.  The  servants  turned  also,  and  they  all 
began  to  go  slowly  down  the  hill.  Jesus  watched 
them  go.  Then  he  said,  and  his  face  was  tired 
and  discouraged,  and  his  eyes  clouded: 

"How  hard  it  is  for  the  rich  to  enter  the  King 
dom  of  God.     I  tell  you,  Simon,  that  it  is  easier 
for  a  camel  to  enter  through  the  eye  of  a  needle 
I  than  for  a  rich  man  to  come  into  the  kingdom." 

Simon  was  astonished. 

"Who,  then,  can  be  saved  if  the  rich  cannot?" 
he  asked. 

T"God  is  the  Awakener  of  man.)  With  him  all 
is  possible,"  said  Jesus,  and  he  turned  to  me. 


50  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

"Good  master—  '  I  began,  but  he  stopped 
me. 

"Do  not  call  me  'good.'  No  one  is  good  but 
God,"  he  said,  and  suddenly  his  eyes  lit  up,  and 
he  questioned: 

"Did  I  not  see  you  at  Simon's  yesterday4?  Why 
have  you  come?" 

"I,  too,  would  live,"  I  said,  and  my  eyes  met 
his. 

He  watched  me  for  a  moment,  and  then  he 
smiled.  "The  other  would  not  believe,  so  he 
went  away,"  he  said. 

"So  will  not  I,"  I  answered. 

"What!  Though  you,  too,  have  riches?"  he 
said,  and  there  was  mirth  in  his  eyes  as  if  he 
mocked  a  little,  even  while  he  loved. 

"All  that  I  have  is  yours,"  I  replied,  and  then 
he  rose  up  and  kissed  me,  and  from  that  day  he 
was  my  friend. 


THESE  things  happened  in  the  spring  of  the 
year.  The  winter  had  been  long  and  hard. 
The  land  withered  under  a  bitter  wind  that  blew 
day  after  day,  and  men  wondered  if  spring  would 
ever  come.  Then  suddenly  the  wind  changed,  and 
a  soft,  warm  rain  fell.  The  sun  shone,  the  field 
flowers  began  to  push  up  their  heads,  and  the 
surfaces  of  the  roadways,  swept  by  the  wind  and 
washed  by  the  rain,  were  clean  and  pleasant  to 
walk  upon.  It  was  in  such  a  time  that  Jesus  set 
out  on  a  journey  through  Galilee.  He  asked  me 
to  go  with  him,  though  he  said  I  should  see  little 
of  him. 

"I  have  a  work  to  do,"  he  said,  and  he  looked 
me  straight  in  the  face  as  his  wont  was.  "I  ask 
your  help.  I  cannot  give  the  message  where  men 
will  not  believe  in  it,  but  when  I  have  those  with 
me  who  trust  me  I  qan  deliver  it." 

I  told  him  I  was  proud  to  be  of  his  company, 
and  he  thanked  me. 

We  were  a  large  party.  Peter  and  John  were 
both  there,  with  Judas  Iscariot  and  the  other  dis- 

51 


52  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

ciples.  Nathaniel  came  too,  and  Joanna  the  wife 
of  Chuza  Herod's  steward  with  Suzanna  who 
brought  with  them  certain  other  women  and  pro 
visions,  which  they  carried  on  mules.  On  the  first 
day  we  started  at  dawn,  and  walked  all  the  morn 
ing.  Joanna  offered  Jesus  a  mule  to  ride  upon, 
but  he  would  not  have  it,  saying  he  loved  to  walk. 
So  he  walked  too. 

For  a  time  that  morning  Peter  and  John  both 
walked  with  me,  and  Peter  spoke  of  Joanna  and 
of  how  she  had  offered  Jesus  the  mule. 

"She  could  not  see  that  it  would  not  be  meet 
for  him  to  go  among  the  poor  like  a  rich  man 
riding  upon  a  mule.  These  rich  women  like  to 
bring  food  upon  their  own  beasts,  and  no  one 
stops  them,  though  it  is  not  needful.  For  all  men 
seek  after  Jesus,  and  are  glad  to  receive  him  into 
their  houses." 

"Why,  then,  did  he  tell  me  that  he  could  not 
give  his  message  where  men  did  not  believe1?"  I 
asked. 

"It  was  his  relatives  who  would  not  believe," 
Peter  answered  with  indignation.  "We  believed 
at  once,  and  when  he  chose  us  they  were  angry. 
There  was  a  day  when  they  came  wanting  to  shut 
him  up  as  a  madman,  for  they  said  he  was  out 
of  his  mind." 

John  said, 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  53 

"They  had  known  him  from  birth,  and  when 
the  message  came  to  him  they  did  not  understand. 
Perchance  they  were  too  familiar  with  him  to  see 
clearly.  When  a  man  thinks  he  knows  his  fel 
lows  all  through,  he  falls  into  error.  He  forgets 
!  the  mystery  that  is  in  everybody." 

Peter  answered  him  hastily,  and  as  he  walked 
he  slashed  at  the  grasses  by  the  side  of  the  road. 

"You  are  making  excuse  where  there  is  no  ex 
cuse.  They  ought  to  have  seen  how  great  a 
Prophet  he  is.  We  saw  it." 

But  John  only  smiled,  and  did  not  answer  him 
back. 

At  noon  we  stopped  high  up  on  the  hillside  to 
eat  our  mid-day  meal.  Jesus  went  apart  up  into 
the  mountain,  and  no  man  followed  him.  The 
women  had  given  us  food,  and  ridden  on  into 
the  next  village,  and  when  we  had  eaten  we  lay 
in  the  shadow  of  a  tall  rock  and  rested. 

The  sun  was  hot,  but  there  was  a  little  breeze. 
The  great  plain  lay  spread  out  before  us  with  its 
forests  of  oak,  and  its  olive  gardens,  its  vineyards, 
and  corn-fields.  In  the  distance  were  the  hills 
of  Samaria,  and  the  high  lands  of  Judah.  The 
ragged,  woolly  sheep  fed  peacefully  near  by,  and 
their  shepherd  did  not  disturb  us.  The  other  dis 
ciples  wandered  away,  but  Peter  and  John  stayed, 
and  Nathaniel.  Judas  Iscariot,  too,  sat  near  us, 


54  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

but  he  did  not  join  in  our  talk.  His  grave,  dark 
face  turned  now  and  then  to  regard  us,  but  for  the 
most  part  he  gazed  on  the  land  before  him  as  if 
he  brooded  over  some  secret  thought. 

It  was  in  this  wise  that  I  learnt  much  of  Jesus 
from  those  who  had  been  with  him  from  the  be 
ginning.  They  did  not  all  agree  in  what  they 
told  me.  Nathaniel,  whose  friend  Philip  lived 
in  the  same  town  as  Peter,  told  me  of  how  Philip 
had  brought  him  to  Jesus. 

"Peter  and  Philip  were  both  there.  It  was 
near  Jerusalem  by  the  Jordan  where  John  was 
baptizing,"  he  began. 

Peter  would  not  let  him  finish,  but  interrupted, 
saying, 

"He  did  not  call  me  at  Jerusalem,  but  at  the 
lake  when  I  was  fishing." 

"But  you  were  with  Philip  at  the  Jordan  too," 
said  Nathaniel  mildly. 

"I  had  but  gone  to  see  John  the  Baptizer.  It 
was  after  that  that  I  was  called,"  said  Peter,  and 
would  have  disputed  the  question,  but  John  said, 

"What  does  when  or  where  matter,  seeing  that 
he  has  called  us1?"  and  Peter  was  silent,  and  al 
lowed  Nathaniel  to  go  on. 

"Philip  told  me  to  come  and  see  a  great 
Prophet,  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  and  I  asked  if  any 
good  could  come  out  of  a  place  like  Nazareth." 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  55 

"It  is  a  dirty  little  village,  and  built  in  a  hole," 
said  Peter.  "There  are  no  new  beautiful  build 
ings  in  it  as  there  are  in  our  town,  Bethsaida." 

And  John  said, 

"The  hills  around  are  wonderful.  A  man  can 
find  freedom  there.  But  go  on,  Nathaniel.  Tell 
us  more." 

"I  went  with  Peter,  and  when  we  came  to 
Jesus,  he  said  he  had  seen  me  under  the  fig  tree 
when  Philip  came  for  me.  It  could  not  have  been 
with  his  bodily  eyes,  for  he  was  a  long  way  off. 
He  has  strange  powers,  but  so  has  many  a  magi 
cian.  I  did  not  follow  him  for  that.  I  followed 
because  I  loved  him." 

"Magicians  are  evil,"  said  Peter.  "They  work 
by  the  power  of  the  Devil.  Jesus  works  only  by 
the  power  of  God.  What  you  tell  us  is  nothing 
compared  to  what  I  have  seen  him  do.  But  see, 
the  people  are  coming  out  from  the  villages.  The 
women  must  have  told  them  that  Jesus  is  here." 

We  looked,  and  saw  that  from  all  quarters  the 
people  seemed  to  be  coming  towards  our  moun 
tain. 

"I  must  go  and  tell  Jesus,"  said  Peter,  starting 
up,  and  he  went  away  up  the  mountain  to  find 
him. 

The  people  were  yet  a  long  way  off,  and  after 
a  time  Nathaniel  went  on  speaking  of  Jesus. 


56  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

"What  his  powers  are  I  care  not,"  he  said. 
'"Though  he  is  a  great  prophet,  he  loves  the  simple. 
He  puts  his  thoughts  in  such  a  way  that  men  can 
not  help  remembering  them.  I  am  a  simple  man 
myself,  and  sometimes  he  has  puzzled  me,  but 
when  I  have  thought  out  his  meaning,  I  can  never 
forget  it.  It  belongs  to  me  then." 

Judas  Iscariot  suddenly  turned  his  earnest  facs 
to  Nathaniel. 

"I  wish  he  would  speak  more  plainly,"  he  said. 
"The  people  do  not  understand  these  stories  of 
his." 

"The  people  are  in  need,"  answered  Nathaniel 
gently.  "I  think  they  do  understand,  and  they 
listen  because  he  has  something  to  say  that  means 
life  to  them." 

"They  do  not  understand  when  he  speaks  of 
the  Kingdom.  I  have  seen  it,"  said  Judas,  and 
he  rose  up  and  went  away. 

"Does  he  never  smile"?"  I  asked,  and  Nathaniel 
replied: 

"Judas  seeks  somewhat.  I  am  sorry  for  him. 
I  wonder  if  he  will  ever  find  it." 

"I  have  a  fear  of  him,"  said  John.  "He  does 
not  love  men." 

"Perhaps  he  loves  causes  better  than  men,"  said 
Nathaniel,  and  then  we  were  silent  and  spoke 
no  more,  but  lay  and  watched  the  people  as  they 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  57 

flocked  together  in  groups  from  the  towns  and 
villages.  The  shaggy,  long-tailed  sheep,  that  at 
noontide  had  been  feeding  quietly  beside  us, 
moved  further  off,  and  when  the  heat  of  the  day 
had  past,  the  mountainside  was  covered  with  peo 
ple,  and  the  sheep  fed  peacefully  on  the  heights. 

All  kinds  and  sorts  of  people  had  come.  Dwell 
ers  in  the  desert,  and  rude-looking  shepherds  in 
sheepskin  coats  mingled  with  learned  Rabbis  clad 
in  long  dark  robes.  Women  from  the  fields  car 
rying  their  babies  on  their  backs  stood  side  by  side 
with  tradesmen  from  the  towns,  tanners,  shoe 
makers,  and  needlemakers,  potters,  dyers,  and 
smiths.  There  were  ass-drivers  and  husbandmen,  \ 
carpenters  and  masons,  slaves  and  tax-gatherers.  ) 
It  seemed  as  if  all  the  workers  in  the  world  had  i 
come  together  to  hear  the  teaching  of  Jesus. 
When  they  saw  him  coming  down  the  mountain 
side,  and,  from  the  high  ground  above  them,  make 
ready  to  speak  to  them,  there  was  a  noise  of 
rustling  of  garments  and  stirring  of  feet  as  they 
all  settled  down  in  peace  to  listen. 

It  was  a  still,  calm  evening.  On  the  far-off 
mountains  the  blue  light  of  dusk  was  already  fall 
ing.  Across  the  wide  plain  the  children  were  be 
ginning  to  drive  the  cattle  home,  and  from  the 
empty  villages  thin  grey  smoke  rose  straight  into 
the  air. 


58  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

Jesus  began  to  speak,  and  there  fell  a  great  si 
lence. 

"I  have  a  new  thing  to  tell  you,"  he  said.  "I 
who  speak  to  you  have  been  sent  as  a  Messenger 
to  you.  God  has  chosen  me  as  his  servant  to  bring 
you  good  news." 

His  voice  was  clear,  and  every  word  could  be 
heard  to  the  uttermost  edge  of  the  crowd. 

"You  all  know  that  to  our  ancestors  it  was 
said  that  a  day  would  come  when  the  God  of 
Heaven  himself  would  set  up  a  kingdom  amongst 
us  that  would  never  be  destroyed.  The  Prophets 
have  told  you  how  in  the  day  of  the  great  kings 
there  shall  come  one  like  the  Son  of  Man,  and 
there  shall  be  given  him  dominion  and  glory  and 
a  kingdom.  And  the  kingdom  shall  belong  to  the 
saints  of  the  Most  High,  and  in  it  all  peoples, 
nations,  and  languages  shall  serve  and  obey  God 
for  ever.  For  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven  is  an  ever 
lasting  kingdom,  and  the  ruler  of  it  is  the  living 
God,  who  is  steadfast  for  ever.  This  you  have 
all  heard,  and  in  this  hope  you  have  lived.  Is  it 
not  so?" 

There  was  a  murmur  of  assent,  men  saying  one 
to  another  that  all  this  they  had  heard  read  alovud 
on  the  Sabbath  in  the  synagogues.  Then  they 
turned  to  listen  again. 

"The  message  I  have  been  sent  to  give  will  not 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  59 

be  good  news  to  the  rich  and  the  powerful.  The 
princes  and  the  governors,  the  captains  and  the 
judges,  the  treasurers  and  the  counsellors,  the 
sheriffs  and  all  who  rule  over  men,  will  not  wel 
come  it.  For  God  has  commanded  me  to  tell  you 
that  his  Kingdom  is  already  here;  yea,  though 
you  know  it  not,  it  is  now  in  your  midst." 

There  was  a  stir  in  the  crowd,  and  the  people 
moved  like  a  wave  of  the  sea,  as  men  leant  for 
ward  more  eagerly  to  hear. 

"The  Kingdom  of  Heaven  does  not  belong  to 
those  who  rule  over  you.  God  has  not  sent  me  to 
the  great  ones  of  the  earth,  but  he  has  told  me  to 
tell  the  good  news  to  the  poor,  to  all  who  labour 
and  are  weary,  to  sinners,  and  to  all  who  suffer.  I 
He  has  sent  me  to  you  who  are  in  slavery,  and  told 
me  to  set  you  free.  He  has  sent  me  to  comfort 
the  broken-hearted,  to  open  the  eyes  of  the  blind, 
and  to  give  joy  for  mourning  and  beauty  for 
ashes.  God's  Kingdom  belongs  to  the  poor  and 
the  gentle,  to  those  who  hunger  and  thirst  after 
goodness,  to  the  clean-minded,  to  those  who 
mourn,  and  to  the  peacemakers.  It  is  to  these 
that  God  speaks." 

He  paused  for  a  moment.  Far  off  on  the  moun 
tain  a  sheep  baaed  to  its  lamb,  and  the  voice  of 
a  herd-child  calling  to  the  cattle  came  from  the 


60  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

plain  below,  but  no  other  sound  broke  the  still 
ness.     Jesus  went  on  speaking. 

"God  has  commanded  me  that  I  deliver  to  you 
a  new  Commandment,  the  law  of  the  Kingdom, 
love  one  another.  No  longer,  as  in  the  days  of 
our  ancestors,  are  men  to  say  you  must  love  your 
neighbour  and  hate  your  enemy,  for  the  new  Com 
mandment  is  that  you  love  your  enemy  also.  For 
if  you  love  only  those  who  love  you,  what  credit 
is  that  to  you4?  Do  not  all  outcasts  do  this4? 
And  if  you  are  only  kind  to  them  that  are  kind 
to  you,  what  thanks  do  you  deserve  *?  That  is  not 
God's  way.  He  is  kind  to  the  thankless  and  to 
the  bad.  Therefore,  I  say  unto  you,  you  must 
love  your  enemies,  and  show  kindness  to  those  who 
hate  you,  and  if  men  injure  you,  you  must  not 
seek  for  revenge.  Our  ancestors  ordained,  'An 
eye  for  an  eye,  and  a  tooth  for  a  tooth,'  but  I 
say  unto  you,  you  must  not  even  oppose  wrong  to 
wrong.  You  must  act  to  other  people  as  you 
would  wish  them  to  act  to  you.  If  you  have  in 
jured  a  man,  it  does  not  help  you  to  be  sorry  for 
it  if  he  hurts  you  back  again.  If  you  have  done  a 
wrong,  it  does  not  make  you  haste  to  repair  it  if 
men  do  another  wrong  to  you.  I  say  unto  you 
that  wrong  can  never  be  appeased  by  wrong.  It 
can  be  swallowed  up  and  blotted  out  by  kindness 
only.  Therefore,  you  must  be  gentle  to  those  who 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple 


are  cruel  to  you,  you  must  be  merciful,  you  must 
not  show  contempt,  you  must  not  judge.  You 
must  forgive  and  be  generous.  And  you  must 
never  despair,  but  go  on  being  kind  to  all  men, 
looking  for  no  reward.  These  are  the  laws  of  the 
Kingdom  of  God." 

Darkness  had  fallen  now,  and  the  land  lay 
dim  around  us.  There  was  scarce  light  enough 
to  see  the  face  of  Jesus,  but  his  voice  rose  clearly 
out  of  the  darkness. 

"To  what  shall  I  compare  the  power  of  love*? 
It  is  like  yeast  that  a  woman  hides  in  a  measure 
of  meal,  and  which  spreads  unseen  till  the  whole 
measure  is  leavened.  It  is  like  mustard  seed, 
small  in  itself,  which  shoots  up  and  becomes  so 
high  that  the  wild  birds  find  cover  in  it.  It  is  like 
a  farmer  who  sows  his  seed,  and  then  watches  first 
the  blade  push  through  the  ground,  and  then  the 
ear,  and  then  the  grain  swelling  and  hardening. 
He  knows  not  how  it  grows,  for  the  earth  seems 
to  bring  forth  the  fruit  of  herself.  So  is  the  growth 
of  love. 

"When  all  men  love  one  another,  God's  king 
dom  will  be  fully  here.  In  that  day,  as  our 
prophets  have  said,  nation  will  no  more  rise  up 
against  nation,  neither  shall  men  learn  war  any 
more.  But  they  shall  beat  their  swords  into 
ploughshares,  and  their  spears  into  reaping  hooks, 


62  By  an  Unknown  Disciple          

and  war  shall  cease  from  amongst  you.  This,  too, 
I  say  unto  you.  But  you  must  first  love  one 
another." 

He  ceased.  No  man  broke  the  silence.  One 
by  one  the  stars  had  begun  to  shine  above  us, 
and  from  behind  the  dark  mountains  the  moon 
pushed  her  way  into  the  high  heavens. 

Jesus  spoke  again. 

"If  you  walk  in  God's  paths,  so  long  as  the 
moon  endureth  there  shall  be  an  abundance  of 
peace,  for  God  himself  will  teach  you  of  his  ways. 
See.  The  night  has  now  come,  and  it  is  time  for 
you  to  be  in  your  homes.  Go,  and  peace  be  upon 
you." 

There  was  a  noise  of  stirring,  as  men  gathered 
up  their  garments,  and  still  in  silence  prepared  to 
go  their  ways.  Then,  above  the  sound  of  the 
moving  multitude,  a  woman's  voice  rose  high  and 
shrill,  and  the  people  paused  to  listen  as  she  cried 
aloud. 

"Oh,  Teacher,  I  say  unto  you,  Blessed  be  the 
womb  that  bore  you,  and  the  breasts  that  gave 
you  suck." 

Her  words  died  on  the  air,  and  out  of  the  night 
the  voice  of  Jesus  answered,  clear  and  courteous, 

"Nay,  mistress,  say  rather,  Blessed  are  those 
who  hear  the  word  of  God  and  do  it.  Go,  and 
God  be  with  you." 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  63 

There  came  again  that  noise  of  the  scuffling  of 
feet  and  the  moving  of  a  great  multitude,  and  the 
people  went  to  their  homes  in  the  darkness. 

I  am  old  now,  and  near  my  death.  It  is  nigh 
three  score  years  since  I  last  heard  him  speak,  but 
I  still  hear  his  voice,  the  beautiful  voice  reach 
ing  out  of  the  darkness,  "But  I  say  unto  you,  Be 
kind  and  forgive.  Seek  no  revenge,  but  love  one 
another.  Yea,  never  despairing,  love  even  those 
who  most  bitterly  wrong  you." 


VI 


GALILEE  is  a  small  country,  and  during  that 
tour  we  tramped  all  over  it,  and  there  was 
a  great  stir  amongst  the  people.  Once,  when  Jesus 
had  gone  into  a  lonely  place  to  be  quiet,  a  crowd 
of  villagers  sought  him  out  and  tried  to  prevent 
him  from  leaving  them.  But  he  said,  "I  must 
take  the  good  news  of  the  Kingdom  of  God  to  the 
other  towns  also,  for  that  is  why  I  was  sent." 
And  so  he  went  on  from  village  to  village,  and  the 
crowds  followed  him. 

At  first  it  was  only  of  the  Kingdom  of  God 
that  Jesus  talked.  Later,  he  told  the  people  other 
things,  but  in  Galilee  he  taught  them  daily  of  the 
Kingdom,  and  healed  many  of  their  sick.  He  had 
the  gift  of  bestowing  more  life,  though  he  used 
none  of  the  ways  of  the  wandering  magicians  who 
also  healed  disease.  He  drew  no  circles  and  re 
cited  no  incantations,  nor  did  he  burn  incense,  or 
give  the  sick  charms  to  eat  against  demons,  but 
he  put  his  hands  on  those  who  suffered,  and  the 
simple  people  said  that  a  virtue  went  out  from 
him,  so  that  their  pains  and  aches  left  them,  and 

64 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  65 

peace  and  ease  came  back.  His  hands  were  strong 
and  well-balanced,  and  comforted  all  whom  they 
touched.  I,  too,  have  felt  that  virtue,  for  if  by 
chance  in  walking  he  laid  a  hand  on  my  shoulder, 
I  felt  more  alive.  I  marked,  too,  that  when  he 
came  amongst  us,  ordinary  things  seemed  note 
worthy,  and  common  events  had  more  of  rarity. 
The  field  flowers  were  more  beautiful,  and  the 
sky  of  a  deeper  blue  when  he  was  near.  Life, 
when  we  saw  it  through  his  eyes,  was  full  of 
divinity,  and  held  nothing  meaningless  or  dull. 
The  teaching  was  to  me  greater  by  far  than 
the  healings,  for  I  felt  that  it  freed  men  from 
burdens  heavier  than  all  their  diseases.  The  Jew 
ish  religion  laid  a  heavy  yoke  upon  men.  The 
Rabbis  taught  that  our  God,  who  was  the  one 
true  God,  had  chosen  our  race  to  be  his  people, 
and  an  example  to  all  other  races.  The  other 
races  were  for  ever  shut  out  from  the  mercy  of 
God,  who  would  one  day  send  a  Deliverer  to  free 
our  nation.  We,  the  chosen,  were  commanded  to 
do  this  small  thing,  or  forbidden  to  do  the  other, 
on  pain  of  God's  displeasure,  so  that  God  himself 
seemed  a  taskmaster  who  demanded  more  than 
man  had  strength  to  render.  I  had  often  in  my 
soul  rebelled  against  the  teaching,  and  seeing  the 
hold  the  Romans  had  over  the  land,  I  felt  that  the 
Rabbis  taught  much  of  which  they  were  ignorant. 


66  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

The  God  of  the  Jews  was  a  narrow  and  jealous 
God,  whom  a  free  man  would  be  ashamed  to  wor 
ship.  But  the  teaching  of  Jesus  freed  my  mind. 
When  he  talked  of  God,  no  rebellion  was  pos 
sible,  for  he  spoke  of  what  he  knew.  He  did  not 
teach  as  the  Rabbis  did,  as  if  the  mystery  of  the 
knowledge  of  God  was  too  great  for  an  ignorant 
man  to  understand,  nor  did  he  talk  of  the  care 
and  ceremony  with  which  God  was  to  be  ap 
proached.  He  spoke  as  if  all  men  might  know 
God  if  they  had  but  the  will.  When  he  talked 
of  God's  love  for  man,  and  of  what  God  asked 
from  man,  I  felt  he  told  us  of  what  he  himself 
had  learnt,  and  of  what  I,  too,  could  learn.  It 

seemed  that  even  the  most  simple  could  under- 

r 

stand. 

Seeing  the  power  that  Jesus  had  to  add  to  the 
worth  of  the  life  of  men  I  did  not  marvel  when  I 
saw  that  the  people  paid  more  heed  to  his  heal 
ings  than  to  his  teachings,  but  I  wondered  when 
I  saw  that  many  of  the  disciples  did  so  too.  Some 
even  of  the  Twelve  when  they  spoke  of  his  power 
liked  more  to  tell  of  the  demons  who  had  been 
cast  out,  or  of  the  lame  who  walked,  and  the 
blind  who  saw,  than  to  spread  the  news  that  God 
only  asked  of  men  that  they  should  love  one 
another. 

During  that  journey  through  Galilee,  I  made 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  67 

acquaintance  with  all  the  followers  of  Jesus,  and 
learnt  to  know  their  ways.  There  were  great  dis 
cussions  amongst  them,  and  sometimes,  like  a 
sudden  storm,  disputings  would  arise,  and  a  clash 
of  ideas,  so  that  after  a  time  I  learnt  to  gauge  the 
nature  of  each  man  by  the  meaning  which  he  put 
into  the  teaching,  and  I  saw  that  few,  save  Na 
thaniel,  read  it  as  I  did. 

When  Jesus  walked  with  us,  all  went  well,  for 
he  was  gay  of  heart,  and  had  a  way  of  linking 
men  together.  He  brought  with  him  a  feeling  of 
kindliness  and  understanding  which  made  all 
things  seem  possible,  so  that  as  we  talked,  no  man 
spoke  evil  of  another,  and  when  we  discussed  it 
was  without  floutings  and  carpings.  We  were 
his  friends,  and  therefore  friends  one  of  another. 
His  sympathy  softened  the  hearts  of  men,  so  that 
they  saw  graces  in  their  fellows  to  which  they 
had  been  blind  before.  When  he  was  there,  all 
the  diverse  natures  of  his  followers  seemed  to  meet 
and  blend,  for  he  charmed  and  held  even  those 
most  different  from  him.  It  may  be  that  men  love 
most  readily  their  opposites,  who  have  the  gifts 
they  lack,  for  how  else  could  Jesus  have  attracted 
and  held  men  like  Matthew  the  publican  (whom 
Simon  said  he  had  bewitched),  or  Judas  Iscariot'? 
/Jesus  loved  freedom  and  gaiety,  and  looked  only 
iat  the  spirit.  He  had  a  mind  swift  as  a  kite,  but 


68  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

Matthew  had  a  hard,  dry  mind,  that  paid  great 
heed  to  the  letter  of  the  Law  and  to  the  Prophets. 
He  clung  to  Jewish  tradition,  even  though  he  had 
taken  service  under  the  Romans.  He  was  slow- 
minded,  and  chewed  his  opinions  as  a  cow  chews 
the  cud. 

Judas  Iscariot,  too,  was  of  a  nature  different 
from  that  of  Jesus.  He  was  a  Judean,  and  the 
other  disciples  were  of  Galilee,  which  caused  some 
jealousy,  for  the  Judeans  are  of  a  harder,  shrewder 
make  than  the  simple  Galileans.  Judas  was  a 
good  manager,  and  not  careless  about  goods  as  the 
others  were,  spending  in  one  day  all  that  they 
had,  and  never  looking  to  the  future.  He  planned 
all  out,  and  allotted  to  each  man  his  share.  He 
did  not  heed  if  any  wasted  his  substance  and  asked 
for  more.  He  would  not  give  it,  thinking  that 
misfortune  must  follow  the  improvident.  And 
yet  Judas  had  great  thoughts,  and  when  he  talked, 
he  held  men's  minds.  He  did  not  often  speak 
to  us,  but  sometimes  when  Jesus  was  there,  Judas 
(as  if  he  felt  Jesus  was  the  only  one  who  under 
stood)  would  begin  and  would  talk  for  long.  He 
did  not  share  his  thoughts  or  look  for  those  of 
other  men  as  Jesus  did.  Judas  gave  out  his  mind  as 
if  it  mattered  not  to  him  whether  the  listeners 
agreed  or  not.  He  did  not  want  to  mingle  the 
thoughts  of  others  with  his  own.  He  was  satis- 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  69 

fied  with  his  own  mind,  and  had  no  wish  to  change 
it.  There  were  rumours  that  his  father  had  been 
in  the  service  of  the  Romans,  and  that  he  him 
self  had  been  a  page  in  their  courts,  but  I  never 
learnt  the  truth  of  these.  If  it  were  true  he  had 
seen  much  evil  amongst  our  conquerers,  for  he 
hated  them  and  looked  for  a  day  when  he  as  a  Jew  1 
would  dominate  over  them  and  force  his  righteous-  • 
ness  upon  the  world.  Judas  never  doubted  of  the  ' 
righteousness  of  the  Jews  or  of  his  own,  and,  in 
deed,  he  was  righteous  in  that  he  seldom  thought 
of  his  own  comfort.  Yet,  when  I  heard  him  talk  I 
felt  that  to  gain  his  end  he  would  spare  neither 
himself  nor  others,  but  would  run  his  course  as 
a  mad  dog  does,  looking  neither  to  right  nor  to 
left. 

Peter  sometimes  spoke  hastily  to  Judas,  for 
Peter  was  of  a  hasty  nature,  and,  like  a  child, 
he  spoke  his  mind  if  he  was  angry.  Like  a  child, 
too,  he  changed  his  mind  from  day  to  day,  loving 
and  hating  as  a  child  does  in  gusts,  and  changing 
his  opinions  as  his  feelings  changed.  Peter  was 
not  clever  like  Judas,  and  grew  restive  when  mat 
ters  above  his  understanding  were  talked  of.  He 
had  a  blustering  way  with  him,  but  I  think  that 
he  blustered  because  he  was  uncertain  of  himself, 
as  you  may  see  one  who  has  no  self-confidence 
assert  his  power  unduly  as  if  to  reassure  himself. 


70  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

Peter's  assertion  was  the  outer  side  of  his  nature. 
On  the  inner  was  his  diffidence.  Jesus  could  calm 
him  by  a  look.  He  often  kept  Peter's  temper  for 
him  when  he  was  on  the  edge  of  an  outbreak,  and 
Peter  showed  his  gratitude  like  a  dog.  He  fol 
lowed  Jesus  blindly,  and  was  jealous  of  others 
who  came  near  him. 

John,  too,  gentle  and  dreamy  and  loving,  was 
jealous  when  the  flood  of  talk  came  on  Judas, 
and  Jesus  listened.  John's  mind  was  not  a  clear 
one,  and  he  was  torn  between  stronger  minds  like 
those  of  Peter  and  Judas.  For  Peter,  when  he 
held  an  opinion,  held  it  with  vehemence,  and 
would  have  all  men  hold  it  too,  while  Judas  was 
so  set  on  his  own  views  that  he  never  saw  when 
others  differed,  and  so,  by  his  ignoring  of  them, 
made  simple  kindly  souls  like  John  feel  as  if  they 
had  ceased  to  exist.  I  have  seen  John  angry  when 
Judas  in  his  talk  ignored  even  Jesus ;  but 
Jesus  was  not  angry,  but  watched  Judas  with  in 
terest,  listening  while  he  spoke  of  the  evils  of  the 
Roman  system  and  of  how  things  ought  to  be. 

The  women  of  the  party  were  not  inclined  to 
dispute,  and,  indeed,  we  saw  little  of  them,  for 
they  occupied  themselves  with  serving.  But  some 
times  Mary  of  Magdala,  who,  having  been  a  har 
lot,  was  accustomed  to  talk  to  men,  came  and 
talked  with  us.  I  mind  me  that  on  one  of  these 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  71 

days  there  was  a  sharp  discussion  amongst  the 
disciples.  It  was  the  first  time  that  I  had  seen 
Mary  since  our  start.  Jesus  had  gone  aside  up  the 
mountain  to  pray,  and  we  waited  in  the  shadow 
of  an  oak  grove  till  he  should  return  and  we  start 
again.  I  sat  on  the  edge  of  the  grove  somewhat 
apart,  and  when  I  saw  a  woman  coming  I  did  not 
at  first  see  that  it  was  Mary,  for  she  was  dressed 
like  a  woman  of  the  people  in  a  coarse  blue  gar 
ment.  Her  hair  was  plainly  braided,  and  there 
was  no  paint  on  her  face.  She  was  beautiful  still, 
but  the  change  was  so  great  that  for  a  moment  I 
stood  aghast,  and  Mary  laughed. 

"You  see  I  am  no  longer  clad  like  a  King's 
daughter,"  she  said. 

"But  your  clothes  were  beautiful,  Mary,"  I 
answered  with  somewhat  of  regret. 

"Yes;  but  their  beauty  was  branded.  Some 
day  I  shall  wear  as  beautiful,  but  till  the  King 
dom  comes  I  wear  this,"  and  she  touched  her 
coarse  garment. 

"Is  not  the  Kingdom  here  already*?"  I  asked. 

"Not  fqr_me,"  she  answered  sadly,  so  that  I 
asked  hastily, 

"Are  you  not  happy,  Mary*?" 

"How  can  I  be  happy  till  my  soul  is  clean1? 
My  tears  have  but  washed  the  paint  from  my 
face,"  she  replied. 


72  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

Some  of  the  others  seeing  us  talking  had  drawn 
near,  for  Mary  was  like  wine  to  men  and  they 
still  sought  her.  Even  now,  when  she  no  longer 
wished  to  rouse  their  bodily  desires,  she  stirred 
and  excited  their  minds,  and  till  her  death  she 
held  them. 

Peter,  hearing  the  sadness  in  her  voice,  said  in 
his  hasty  way  with  something  of  self-importance 
in  his  tone, 

"Men  do  not  condemn  you,  Mary." 

Whereupon  Mary,  with  a  flash  of  her  old  tem 
per,  answered, 

"It  matters  not  to  me  whether  men  condemn 
me  or  not.  What  sins  I  committed  they  shared. 
I  know  men  too  well  to  value  their  judgment." 

"Jesus  did  not  come  to  condemn  the  world,  but 
to  save  it,"  said  John. 

"Jesus  did  not  condemn  me,"  said  Mary.  "I 
condemn  myself.  My  punishment  for  having 
lived  a  dirty  life  is  to  see  the  beauty  of  a  clean 
one,  and  he  showed  me  that.  It  is  enough." 

Suddenly  Judas  Iscariot  spoke,  sweeping  the 
other  talk  aside,  as  if  such  personal  things  mat 
tered  naught. 

"Why  did  you  say  the  Kingdom  was  here4?" 
he  asked  me,  and  I,  somewhat  surprised,  said, 

"Did  not  Jesus  say  so4?" 

"Jesus  knows  well  that  the  Kingdom  cannot 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  73 

be  established  so  easily.  There  is  too  much  power 
on  the  side  of  the  oppressors." 

"But  Judas,  Jesus  said  nothing  of  oppressors," 
said  Nathaniel. 

"Jesus  knows  the  time  is  not  ripe  yet,  though 
it  soon  may  be.  See  how  the  people  follow  him," 
said  Judas  darkly. 

"I  don't  know  what  you  mean,"  said  Peter. 

"A  wise  man's  eyes  are  in  his  head,  while  a  fool 
walketh  without  eyes,"  answered  Judas.  "The 
oppression  in  Galilee  is  not  so  heavy  as  in  Judea." 

"I  suppose  you  mean  me,"  Peter  retorted  hotly. 
"I  know  I  am  an  ignorant  man,  but  I'm  not  such 
a  fool  as  you  think.  You  speak  of  the  Romans. 
You  are  a  Judean.  You  think  too  much  of  the 
Romans.  We  do  not  bother  about  them  in  Gali 
lee." 

"Is  it  wise  to  mention  names'?"  Judas  replied. 
"When  I  hear  it  said  that  the  Kingdom  is  here 
already,  I  marvel  if  men  know  aught  of  the  con 
dition  of  this  country  or  how  we  must  work  to 
better  it.  If  the  Judeans  follow  as  these  Galileans 
do,  the  Kingdom  may  soon  be  here.  But  there 
must  be  no  division  between  Judean  and  Galilean. 
We  want  a  plan.  It  would  be  madness  and  folly 
to  try  to  establish  the  Kingdom  without  unity." 

"But  that  is  what  Jesus  always  teaches,"  cried 
John. 


74  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

"Jesus  is  wise.  He  knows  that  to  every  pur 
pose  there  is  time  and  judgment,"  said  Judas. 

"What  purpose  do  you  speak  of?"  asked  Na 
thaniel.  Mary,  who  had  been  watching  Judas, 
cried  out, 

"He  speaks  of  the  Romans.  He  wants  to  up 
set  their  rule." 

"Can  God  reign  in  Judea  if  the  Romans  are 
still  there?"  asked  Judas;  and  we  all  stood  silent, 
wondering  at  the  meaning  he  put  into  the  teach 
ing.  At  last,  I,  seeing  that  division  might  come 
upon  us,  said, 

"Jesus  spoke  of  a  different  Kingdom.  He  does 
not  think  of  rebellion." 

"It  is  a  kingdom  of  the  heart,  a  heavenly  king 
dom,"  said  Nathaniel. 

"But  it  is  to  be  established  on  earth  according 
to  the  prophecies,"  said  Matthew.  And  Peter, 
hesitating,  said,  as  if  he  spoke  to  himself, 

"He  said  the  Kingdom  did  not  belong  to  those 
who  rule  over  us." 

"He  said  the  Rulers  and  Governors  would  not 
welcome  it,"  Judas  answered  him. 

"God  could  reign  in  Galilee,"  said  John. 

"But  not  in  Judea,"  cried  Judas.  "The  Ro 
mans  must  be  driven  forth  if  God  is  to  rule  over 
Israel.  It  has  long  been  in  my  mind,  and  Jesus 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  75 

is  coming  to  see  it  too.  Mark  the  last  time  I 
talked  to  him.  One  day  he  will  do  it." 

"I  am  sure  you  misread  him,  Judas,"  said  Na 
thaniel. 

"Why  else  do  the  people  follow1?"  said  Judas, 
and  then  Mary,  springing  from  the  ground,  cried 
out, 

"Here  is  Jesus  himself.     Let  us  ask  him." 

Jesus  was  coming  down  the  mountainside,  and 
we  all  went  out  to  nrcet  him.  When  he  was  near, 
Peter  hurried  a  pace  or  two  in  advance  and  burst 
into  speech. 

"Master!  Judas  would  rid  us  of  all  oppres 
sors." 

There  was  a  tranquillity  on  the  face  of  Jesus 
and  a  light  in  his  eyes  as  if  he  had  looked  upon 
things  unseen.  He  turned  to  Judas,  "What  op 
pressors'?"  he  asked,  and  sat  down  on  a  big  stone 
to  hear. 

"The  oppressors  of  our  nation,"  said  Judas. 
"You  have  seen  the  oppression  of  the  poor  and 
the  violent  perverting  of  justice  and  judgment  in 
the  province.  The  oppressors  must  be  driven  forth 
if  the  Kingdom  is  to  be  established.  Seeing  the 
power  you  have  over  the  people,  I  have  told  them 
you  will  end  the  oppression." 

"By  driving  forth  the  oppressors?"  asked  Jesus. 

"Yes,"  cried  Judas.     "By  thrusting  them  into 


76  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

the  sea.  By  breaking  their  Empire  in  pieces,  and 
humbling  them  so  that  they  whisper  out  of  the 
dust." 

When  Judas  finished,  Jesus  rose  and  from  the 
height  on  which  we  stood,  he  looked  over  the 
plain  below  with  all  its  signs  of  the  works  of  men, 
its  villages  and  its  towns,  its  crops  and  woods,  and 
far  in  the  distance  the  tiny  ships  on  the  blue  line 
of  the  sea.  He  seemed  to  withdraw  into  himself 
as  if  to  gather  strength,  and  then  he  turned  again 
to  Judas,  and  his  face  was  full  of  graciousness, 
like  one  of  the  holy  angels. 

"Will  that  end  oppression?"  he  asked,  and 
waited  for  a  reply. 

None  came,  for  with  the  question  we  all,  even 
Judas,  fell  silent,  and  after  a  space  Jesus  turned 
him  about,  and  we  started  again  on  our  journey. 


VII 


SOMEWHERE  near  Rameh,  on  our  way  to 
the  coast,  we  left  the  hill-tracks  that  led 
from  village  to  village,  and  struck  into  the  great 
west  road,  the  Way  of  the  Sea,  that  runs  from 
Damascus  to  the  Roman  seaport  of  Ptolemais. 
Matthew  knew  this  road  well,  for  its  way  lay 
round  the  north  end  of  the  lake,  and  at  Capernaum 
where  it  forked,  one  branch  running  north  and  the 
other  south  to  join  the  great  road  to  the  east,  he 
had  sat  at  its  custom  house  gathering  the  tolls 
which  the  Romans  levied  for  its  upkeep  on  all  the 
travellers  who  used  it.  Jesus  knew  it  too,  for  it 
passed  some  miles  north  of  Nazareth,  where  he 
had  spent  his  boyhood,  but  he  knew  the  other  road 
that  ran  across  Galilee  better.  This,  the  great 
road  of  the  East,  ran  south  of  Nazareth  nearer 
the  village  and  linked  the  sea  coast  with  the  Greek 
cities  and  with  Arabia. 

As  we  walked  down  the  hillside  to  join  the  Via 
Maris,  there  was  much  talk  amongst  us  of  these 
and  of  other  roads  which  the  Romans  had  paved ; 
for  at  one  time  or  another  we  had  all  travelled 
along  them,  and  there  is  no  talk  so  engrossing  as 

77 


78  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

the  talk  of  roads.  Jesus  told  us  of  how  as  a  boy, 
when  he  had  had  a  day's  freedom  from  work,  he 
had  loved  to  walk  the  miles  that  lay  between  Naz 
areth  and  the  great  road  to  the  East,  merely  to  sit 
by  the  roadside  and  watch  the  traffic  that  passed 
along  it.  He  told  of  the  caravans  bearing  iron 
and  tin  that  went  from  the  sea  to  Arabia,  and  of 
the  wild  herdsmen  who  passed  from  Arabia  to  the 
sea,  driving  flocks  of  sheep,  of  rams,  and  of  goats. 
He  spoke  of  the  chariots  and  the  merchants  that 
went  to  and  fro,  and  of  the  sound  of  the  trampling 
of  the  legions  as  they  marched  on  their  way  from 
Rome  to  the  Greek  cities  and  the  far-off  frontiers 
of  the  Empire. 

"You  may  see  in  a  day's  walk  the  might  of  all 
the  kingdoms  of  this  world  pass  along  it,"  he  said. 

We  reached  the  road,  and  stopped  for  a  mo 
ment  to  watch  in  the  distance  the  dust  of  an  ap 
proaching  caravan. 

"They  go  to  Damascus,"  said  Jesus,  and  Mat 
thew  answered, 

"The  Romans  have  made  all  travel  easy.  I  al 
ways  say  that  from  Damascus  you  may  now  reach 
Baghdad  and  the  Indies  as  easily  as  a  man  may 
go  from  Jerusalem  to  Jericho." 

"Easier !  There  are  fewer  thieves,"  cried  Peter, 
with  a  glance  at  Judas  Iscariot,  but  Jesus,  as  if 
he  put  the  challenge  aside,  said, 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  79 

"The  road  to  Damascus  is  broad,  but  from  Jeru 
salem  to  Jericho  is  a  dangerous  way,  where  thieves 
may  lurk." 

He  led  the  way  into  the  division  of  the  road 
reserved  for  foot  passengers,  and  we  walked  on 
towards  the  cloud  of  dust  with  dim  forms  loom 
ing  in  it  that  marked  the  caravan. 

When  we  came  up  to  it,  we  stood  on  the  road 
side  to  watch  it  pass.  The  evil-faced  camels 
swayed  on  their  way,  loaded  with-  chests  bound 
with  cords  and  with  bales  shipped  from  the  ports 
of  Tarshish  to  the  quays  of  Ptolemais.  The  tur 
bans  of  the  men  were  bound  with  ropes  of  hair, 
and  their  open  coats  showed  their  brown,  hairy 
chests.  One  trudged  in  the  dust,  while  another 
ran  forward  with  cries  to  strike  an  unruly  beast 
on  the  flank.  The  dust  of  the  road  lay  thick  upon 
men  and  camels.  Once  and  again  a  whiff  of  sweet 
scent  came  from  the  loads  as  if  the  boxes  still 
held  the  spices  with  which  they  had  travelled  to 
Ptolemais  or  to  Tyre.  Then  the  scent  died  away, 
the  smell  of  dust,  and  of  sweat,  of  men,  and  of 
camels  prevailed,  and  with  shouts  from  the  drivers 
and  the  soft  thud  of  the  pads  of  the  camels,  the 
caravan  passed  on  to  the  East. 

Jesus  watched  it  grow  small  in  the  distance. 

"Such  sights  held  me  as  a  boy,  and  they  still 
hold  me,"  he  said.  "What  treasure  has  passed 


80  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

along  this  road  for  Damascus  or  the  fairs  of  Tyre. 
Emeralds  and  wheat,  honey  and  oil  and  balm,  fine 
linen  and  embroidered  goods,  iron,  cassia  and  cal 
amus,  white  wool,  ivory  and  ebony,"  he  quoted 
as  if  he  loved  the  beauty  of  the  words. 

"Men  from  Assyria,  Babylon,  and  Nineveh,  too, 
have  walked  on  this  road." 

"The  Romans  now  walk  in  their  places,"  said 
Judas  bitterly. 

"That  caravan  will  cross  the  Jordan  by  the 
Bridge  of  the  Daughters  of  Jacob,"  said  Matthew. 
"Often  after  harvest  when  the  wheat  is  being 
moved,  the  camels  pass  all  night  long,  never  ceas 
ing." 

We  v/ent  on  towards  the  sea,  and  descended  to 
the  coast  plain  to  a  village  where  the  women,  who 
had  gone  on  before  us,  had  prepared  places  for 
us  to  sleep.  Here,  at  the  gate,  the  head-man,  with 
most  of  the  villagers,  was  waiting  to  receive  Jesus. 
It  was  a  poor  village  of  poor  houses,  and  the  head 
man  himself  was  in  poverty.  His  clothing  was 
worn,  and  his  eyes  had  an  anxious  look  as  if  to 
feed  so  many  guests  would  be  a  burden.  He  led 
the  way  into  his  house,  and  his  wife  came  forward 
to  welcome  us. 

"May  a  blessing  rest  upon  this  house,"  said 
Jesus. 

"May  a  blessing  rest  upon  you.     You  are  wel- 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  81 

come,  sir,"  said  the  woman.  The  head-man 
showed  us  where  to  sit,  and  his  wife  began  to  pre 
pare  food  to  set  before  us.  It  was  the  poor  house 
of  a  hard-working  family.  The  few  beasts  in  the 
stalls  were  thin,  and  there  was  not  much  fodder 
piled  against  the  wall.  The  clothing  of  the  woman 
was  old,  and  on  her  patient  face  there  were  lines 
of  suffering  and  of  care.  The  meal  which  she 
offered  to  us  generously  was  poor,  too,  as  if  the 
corn-bins  did  not  hold  much  grain.  Jesus  asked 
her  if  she  had  children,  and  she  said  they  were 
with  the  sheep,  and  had  not  yet  come  in.  The 
land  was  poor  here,  and  they  had  sometimes  to 
go  far  for  pasture.  They  would  be  back  by  night 
fall. 

Before  the  meal  was  over  there  was  a  commo 
tion  at  the  door,  and  two  tall  lads  and  a  small, 
bright-eyed  girl  came  in,  driving  some  sheep  be 
fore  them. 

"Here  are  the  children,"  said  their  mother, 
hastening  forward  to  greet  them  and  to  drive  the 
sheep  into  the  pen.  There  were  not  many  sheep, 
and  the  guests  all  helped  to  pen  them,  so  this  job 
was  soon  done,  the  woman  making  excuses  to 
Jesus  for  the  noise.  Then  she  took  their  empty 
scrips  from  the  children,  and  giving  them  each 
a  piece  of  bread,  set  them  down  in  a  comer  and 
told  them  to  keep  quiet.  The  boys  seeing  Jesus 


82  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

in  the  place  of  honour  sat  still  and  watched  him 
as  they  ate  their  supper,  but  the  girl,  after  one  or 
two  hesitating  looks,  gradually  edged  nearer  and 
nearer  until  at  last  she  leant  against  Jesus,  press 
ing  her  small  body  close  to  his  as  she  munched  her 
bread.  The  mother  would  have  sent  her  away. 

"You  must  not  trouble  the  guests.  I  am  afraid 
she  will  weary  you,  sir,"  she  said,  but  Jesus  put 
his  arm  round  the  child  and  said, 

"Do  not  send  her  away.  Let  her  stay  with  me. 
It  is  to  the  childlike  that  the  Kingdom  of  Heaven 
belongs." 

When  we  had  finished  our  food,  the  head-man 
said  to  Jesus, 

"You  are  a  Prophet,  sir,  and  we  would  hear 
your  message.  Many  of  our  friends  have  gone  to 
hear  you,  but  we  are  poor  and  cannot  often  find 
time  to  leave  our  work." 

So  Jesus  taught  them.  We  were  all  there,  and 
the  women  too,  and  the  friends  of  the  head-man 
and  many  of  the  villagers.  It  was  a  large  room 
and  there  was  space  for  all.  Jesus  talked  to  the 
man  and  woman  of  the  house,  and  we  listened. 

"Once  upon  a  time,"  he  began,  "there  was  a 
rich  man,  and  his  land  was  very  fertile.  It  was 
so  fertile  that  he  began  to  ask  himself,  'What  shall 
I  do1?  I  have  so  many  crops  that  I  have  no  place 
to  store  them.'  He  thought  for  a  while,  and  then 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  83 

he  said,  CI  know  what  I  will  do.  I  will  pull  down 
these  old  barns,  and  in  their  place  I  will  build  fine 
new  ones,  large  enough  to  store  all  my  grain.  I 
will  put  all  my  other  spare  goods  in  them.  When 
I  have  done  this,  I  shall  have  plenty  of  good 
things  stored  by  for  years  to  come,  and  I  will  take 
my  ease.  I  will  eat  and  drink  and  enjoy  myself.' 
But  that  night  God  spoke  to  that  rich  man  and 
said, 

"  'You  fool !  This  very  night  I  am  going  to 
take  away  your  soul,  and  who  will  then  have  all 
these  goods  that  you  have  laid  by*?'  ' 

Jesus  stopped  for  a  moment,  and  his  eyes  met 
che  anxious  eyes  of  the  man,  who  was  regarding 
him  with  a  puzzled  look. 

"So  it  will  always  be  with  those  who  lay  by 
wealth  for  themselves,  and  who  do  not  seek  to  add 
to  God's  glory  by  doing  good  work,"  he  said. 
"That  is  why  I  say  to  you,  do  not  be  anxious  about 
your  life  here,  about  what  you  can  get  to  eat,  nor 
yet  about  your  body,  what  you  are  to  wear.  Can 
any  of  us  by  mere  anxiety  prolong  his  life  for  one 
moment'?  So  if  you  cannot  do  even  this  smallest 
thing,  why  be  anxious  about  other  things'?  God 
is  your  Father,  and  he  gave  you  life.  Is  not  life 
a  greater  gift  than  food,  and  your  body  more  won 
derful  than  its  clothes'?  Your  Father  knows  that 


84  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

you  need  all  these  things.  Will  he  not  give  them 
also  to  you*?" 

The  anxiety  in  the  man's  eyes  had  given  place 
to  interest.  He  sighed  as  if  in  relief  and  listened 
eagerly  as  Jesus  went  on. 

"Think  of  the  ravens.  They  do  not  sow  or 
reap.  They  have  neither  storehouses  nor  bams, 
and  yet  God  feeds  them.  Are  you  not  as  precious 
to  God  as  the  birds  are"?  Think  of  the  wild  lilies 
and  how  they  grow.  They  do  not  toil  or  spin, 
and  yet  I  tell  you  that  Solomon  in  all  his  glory 
was  never  robed  with  beauty  like  theirs." 

His  eyes  lingered  with  tenderness  on  the  patient 
face  of  the  woman,  and  he  drew  the  little  girl  still 
closer  as  he  said, 

"If  God  so  clothe  the  field  flowers  which  are  liv 
ing  to-day  and  to-morrow  will  be  burnt  up  in  your 
oven,  will  he  not  also  clothe  you,  O  woman  of  lit 
tle  faith?" 

The  eyes  of  the  woman  filled  with  tears,  but  she 
did  not  answer. 

"If  this  child  here  asked  you  for  a  loaf,  would 
you  give  her  a  stone?  If  she  asked  a  fish,  would 
you  give  her  a  snake  ?  If  you,  then,  being  imper 
fect,  wish  to  give  her  good  gifts,  will  not  God, 
who  is  all  good,  give  you  help  when  you  ask  it?" 

The  woman  wiped  the  tears  from  her  eyes  with 
a  comer  of  her  ragged  veil,  but  she  still  did  not 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  85 

speak.  The  two  boys  had  drawn  near,  and  now 
leant  against  Jesus.  The  small  girl  had  climbed 
to  his  lap,  and  was  fast  asleep  with  her  head  on 
his  shoulder.  Jesus  went  on, 

"As  we  came  by  the  Way  of  the  Sea  to-day,  we 
met  a  caravan  going  with  treasure  to  Damascus. 
Daily  you  see  them  pass ;  for  after  all  these  things 
do  the  nations  seek.  But  I  say  unto  you  that  God 
does  not  wish  you  to  store  up  treasure  on  earth, 
for  where  you  have  your  treasure  your  heart  will 
be  also,  and  you  will  be  too  anxious  about  it  to 
think  of  God.  For  the  moth  eats  all  treasure  here, 
and  rust  bites  into  it.  Thieves,  too,  break  in  and 
steal  it.  What  think  you"?  If  you  love  the  things 
of  this  world  will  not  your  heart  be  with  them, 
while  if  you  love  the  things  God  loves  will  not 
your  heart  be  with  God4?  Can  any  man  serve  two 
masters'?  Will  he  not  love  one  and  hate  the 
other*?  You  cannot  serve  both  God  and  riches." 

The  man  of  the  house  straightened  his  shoul 
ders  as  if  he  cast  a  weight  from  his  back.  He 
looked  at  his  wife,  and  she  met  his  eyes  with  a 
question  in  hers.  It  was  as  if  hope  had  entered 
their  hearts. 

Jesus  went  on  speaking  to  them. 

"When  you  welcomed  me  to-day  you  welcomed 
God  who  has  sent  me  as  his  messenger.  Therefore, 
it  is  in  God's  name  that  I  tell  you  that  your  Father 


86  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

cares  for  you.  God's  message  is,  'Come  unto  me 
all  you  who  toil  and  bear  burdens,  and  I  will  give 
you  rest.  Take  my  yoke  upon  you,  and  learn  to 
be  gentle  and  lowly  minded.  Walk  in  the  good 
way,  and  you  shall  find  rest  for  your  souls.'  For 
God's  yoke  is  easy,  and  burdens  borne  for  him  feel 
light." 

He  ceased  speaking.  The  small  girl  roused 
herself,  and  half-lifting  her  head  from  his  shoulder 
spoke  in  a  sleepy  voice. 

"Tell  me  more  about  the  ravens,"  she  com 
manded,  and  at  once  fell  asleep  again.  We  all 
laughed,  and  Jesus,  holding  the  child  with  care, 
rose  from  his  seat. 

"It  is  time  for  her  to  be  in  bed,"  he  said,  and 
put  her  into  her  mother's  arms,  and  the  woman, 
the  lines  smoothed  from  her  face,  and  a  new  peace 
in  her  eyes,  took  the  child  and  bore  her  away. 
And  then  we  all  went  to  our  rest. 


VIII 

ON  our  way  to  Tyre  we  turned  aside  and 
walked  across  the  plain  of  Ptolemais  to  see 
that  city.  There  was  a  throng  round  the  gate.  A 
camel  caravan  crowded  up  the  great  door,  and 
some  horsemen  waited  impatiently  outside,  sooth 
ing  their  frightened  horses,  while  the  camels,  who 
make  haste  for  no  man,  stepped  slowly  forth,  bob 
bing  their  heads.  It  was  some  time  before  all  was 
clear,  and  we  could  pay  our  tolls  and  pass  through 
the  small  gate  into  the  city.  This  sea-town  was 
full  of  foreigners,  and  speech  with  them  was  dif 
ficult,  for  though  Jesus  and  some  others  of  us 
knew  Greek,  we  did  not  speak  it  as  our  mother 
tongue.  The  settled  inhabitants  were  too  busy 
to  listen  to  teaching,  and  the  sailors  were  full  of 
their  work,  and  did  not  wish  to  hear.  Some  of 
them  knew  no  Greek,  but  spoke  barbarous  tongues 
which  we  had  never  heard  before,  so  Jesus  did  not 
try  to  talk  to  them,  but  went  about  with  us  to  see 
the  sights. 

The  centre  place  of  the  city  was  packed  with 
thousands  of  camels   and  tens  of  thousands  of 

87 


88  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

sheep.  The  air  was  filled  with  the  complaints 
of  the  sheep  and  the  cries  of  the  men  who  shep 
herded  them.  Near  the  shops  rows  of  the  camels 
lay  in  the  dust,  and  we  watched  while  their  dou 
bled  back  knee  joints  were  bound  round  with 
string  to  keep  them  from  rising  till  men  had  tied 
on  their  packs  the  bales  brought  from  the  ware 
houses.  When  a  camel  was  loaded  its  knee  was 
unbound  and  the  great  beast  rose  rocking  under 
its  load.  Then  another  was  led  up  and  forced  to 
kneel  and  take  its  place. 

There  were  many  signs  of  the  Roman  power  in 
Ptolemais.  The  streets  were  paved,  a  gang  of 
slaves,  working  under  the  lash  of  a  Roman  fore 
man,  was  laying  out  a  new  road,  and  as  we  went 
out  of  the  market-place  to  the  sea  we  met  a  squad 
of  soldiers  marching  in  helmets  and  breastplates 
and  commanded  by  a  hard-faced  centurion.  We 
passed  by  the  temple  to  Jupiter,  built  in  the  Greek 
style,  and  Jesus  stopped  to  watch  the  worshippers 
of  this  god  as  they  passed  in  and  out  of  the  por 
tico.  Judas  Iscariot's  face  wore  a  bitter  look  whe,n 
he  saw  the  tranquillity  of  Jesus  before  this  heathen 
temple. 

"They  have  worshipped  false  gods  here  ever 
since  Alexander  the  Greek  took  this  city.  It  has 
never  been  a  city  of  the  Jews,"  he  said,  for  he 
knew  much  history. 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  89 

Jesus  did  not  answer,  but  Matthew  made  reply. 

"The  Canaanites  worshipped  false  gods  too. 
Pity  was  we  did  not  take  the  city  from  them  when 
Pharaoh  released  us  after  taking  us  captive  to 
work  for  him  in  Egypt.  If  Moses  had  lived  .  .  ." 

Judas  cut  him  short. 

"Moses  sinned,  and  his  work  failed.  It  is  al 
ways  so  with  our  leaders.  They  do  not  complete 
the  work.  They  left  this  coast  in  the  hands  of 
foreigners,  and  through  their  open  seaports  all 
manner  of  abominations  have  come.  Now  the 
Romans  are  paving  ways  over  all  our  land  for 
their  wickedness  to  walk  on.  Soon  we  shall  cease 
to  be  a  nation." 

No  one  answered,  for  Judas's  denunciations 
tired  the  mind,  and  we  wanted  to  watch  the  sights. 
We  walked  on  in  silence  till  we  reached  the  quays. 

Here  were  more  signs  of  the  strength  of  the 
Romans.  A  galley  was  clearing  the  harbour,  and 
we  could  hear  the  clank  of  the  oars  as  the  chained 
prisoners  strained  their  way  out  to  sea.  Many 
ships  lay  by  the  quay-side,  loading  and  unloading. 
On  one  quay  an  elephant  stacked  balks  of  timber 
that  had  come  from  Lebanon,  while  on  another 
crates  of  wild  beasts,  hysenas  and  lions  from  the 
Arabian  desert,  waited  to  be  hoisted  into  a  ship, 
the  miserable  creatures  roaring  in  their  narrow 
cages  on  their  way  to  the  games  in  Rome. 


90  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

The  business  and  bustle  all  around,  and  the 
many  strange  sights  of  the  city  stirred  the  blood 
of  the  disciples.  Peter's  eyes  shone,  and  he  was 
excited  as  he  went  from  ship  to  ship  to  see  their 
tackle  and  with  what  each  was  loading,  and  the 
others  followed  him.  But  Jesus  stood  before  the 
poor  caged  beasts,  and  looked  at  them  with  com 
passion.  His  face  was  sad,  and  after  a  time  he 
turned  and  led  the  way  from  the  quays  to  where, 
by  steps,  we  could  reach  the  beach.  I  alone  fol 
lowed,  and  we  walked  along  the  sand  in  the  direc 
tion  of  Tyre.  When  we  had  got  some  way  from 
Ptolemais,  so  that  its  roofs  only  showed  in  the 
distance,  with  Mount  Carmel  behind  them,  we  sat 
down  on  the  sand-hills  to  wait  for  the  others.  The 
afternoon  breeze  had  begun  to  blow  up  from  the 
sea.  Behind  us  a  clump  of  palms  rattled  their 
branches  together  in  the  wind  as  if  they  clapped 
their  hands,  and  in  front  the  strong  waves  broke 
in  long  lines  of  foam  on  the  shore.  After  the  tur 
moil  of  the  city  there  was  soothing  in  the  roar  of 
the  sea  and  the  harsh  rattle  of  the  palms. 

Jesus  sat  watching  it  all.  Once  he  said,  half 
to  me,  half  to  himself, 

"God  is  holy  in  all  his  works,"  and  then  he  fell 
silent  again. 

So  we  sat  and  spoke  no  more  until  the  others 
came  up  weary  of  sight-seeing,  but  excited  still 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  91 

with  all  they  had  seen.  Jesus  told  them  to  rest, 
for  we  had  a  long  walk  before  us.  We  were  to 
sleep  in  a  village  somewhat  short  of  Tyre  that 
night,  so  they  threw  themselves  down  on  the 
sandhills  and  took  out  bread  and  ate. 

Peter  talked  of  the  tall  houses  of  Tyre  that  we 
should  see  on  the  morrow,  and  of  all  the  wonders 
they  had  seen  that  day,  and  Jesus  asked  Judas  if 
he  knew  the  histories  of  Ptolemais  and  of  Tyre. 
And  so,  as  we  lay  there  on  the  sand-hills,  Judas 
told  of  the  glories  these  cities  had  seen,  and  of  the 
Kings  who  had  ruled  over  them.  He  told  of  how 
Cleopatra  had  come  up  from  Egypt  with  her  lit 
ters  and  her  chariots  and  horsemen  to  be  married 
to  Alexander  Balas  in  Ptolemais  with  great  pomp, 
as  is  the  manner  of  kings;  and  of  how  this  same 
Alexander  had  robed  Jonathan  Maccabeus  with 
purple  in  the  centre  place  of  the  city,  giving  him 
great  honour  so  that  his  enemies  fled  from  before 
him. 

"In  the  very  same  market-place  where  we  have 
but  now  seen  the  camels,"  said  Judas.  And  then 
he  told  of  the  death  of  Jonathan,  treacherously 
slain  by  King  Tryphon  within  the  walls  of  Pto 
lemais. 

"Jonathan  was  brother  of  Judas,  who  made  a 
treaty  with  Rome,  and  so  brought  the  present  mis 
ery  upon  us,"  said  Judas. 


92  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

"Should  we  have  been  a  kingdom  now  if  he 
had  conquered  without  the  Roman  help4?"  asked 
Peter,  who  forgot  the  enmity  he  had  for  Judas, 
as  he  listened  to  his  talk. 

"Our  rulers  have  always  betrayed  us,"  an 
swered  Judas.  "God  gave  us  this  land,  but  these 
foreign  kings  made  it  their  battlefield,  and  our 
rulers  sought  their  friendship.  What  are  we  even 
now  but  a  bridge  between  nations'?  These  dogs 
of  foreigners  walk  over  us  as  if  we  did  not  count !" 

"But  we  have  risen  against  them,"  cried  Peter. 
"The  Galileans  have  always  fought,  looking  for 
a  Deliverer." 

"We  Jews  always  think  each  new  rising  will 
bring  forth  a  Messiah,"  said  Nathaniel. 

"There  have  been  Messiahs  in  plenty,  but  they 
have  not  freed  us,"  said  Judas. 

"Shall  we  ever  be  free1?"  Peter  persisted. 

"How  can  we  endure  being  governed  by  stran 
gers'?"  Judas  asked,  and  Matthew  replied, 

"It  is  our  own  fault  that  the  Romans  hold  the 
power  they  do.  We  do  not  govern  as  well  as 
they." 

"It  is  our  rulers,  I  tell  you,"  said  Judas.  "Even 
now  the  High  Priest  is  a  friend  to  Pilate.  I  know. 
Do  I  not  come  from  Judea*?  Pilate  would  like 
us  to  follow  the  custom  of  the  Romans,  who  make 
their  Emperors  gods  and  worship  them.  And 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  93 

they  do  not  govern  as  well  as  you  say,  Matthew. 
Look  at  these  things !"  And  he  went  on  to  tell  of 
how  the  conquerors  had  plundered  the  poor,  rob 
bing  them  of  all  they  had,  until  no  man  was  se 
cure  and  the  whole  land  was  overrun  with  thieves 
and  rebels.  And  Simon  and  Jude,  who  were  shep 
herds  and  had  fed  their  flocks  on  the  hills  of  Gali 
lee  before  they  followed  Jesus,  joined  in  the  talk, 
and  told  of  how  men  had  stolen  their  sheep,  and 
of  how  they  had  to  take  refuge  in  the  caves  to 
hide  from  the  robbers.  These  things  we  all  knew, 
and  Peter  grew  weary  of  listening,  and  urged 
Judas  to  tell  more  tales,  and  so  Judas  told  of 
Alexander  the  Greek  and  how  he  had  besieged 
Tyre,  and  of  the  mole  which  he  had  built  into 
the  sea  to  bring  his  engines  of  war  against  the 
walls  of  the  city,  which  mole  was  now  a  causeway, 
having  silted  up  with  sand,  so  that  men  walked 
dry  shod  over  it.  Then  he  told  of  wars  with  the 
Egyptians  and  the  Arabians  and  with  men  from 
the  north,  until  there  seemed  no  end  to  the  con 
querors  of  our  nation.  Suddenly  Judas  slacked 
in  his  talk,  and  turned  to  Jesus  and  said,  and  his 
dark  eyes  glowed  with  the  fire  that  was  in  him, 
"Master,  will  you  not  give  us  the  kingdom1?" 
Jesus  bent  his  eyes  on  Judas,  and  his  face  was 
kind  but  wistful  as  he  answered. 


94  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

"I  cannot  give  any  man  the  kingdom,  Judas. 
He  must  take  it  for  himself." 

Peter  burst  in  excitedly. 

"When  we  have  taken  it  who  shall  rule  over 
us*?  What  place  shall  we  have"?  Shall  we  do 
great  deeds  like  these  kings'?" 

"You  shall  do  greater  deeds  than  these,"  said 
Jesus. 

"What  deeds'?"  cried  Peter,  and  the  others 
moved  nearer  to  hear  too. 

"You  could  not  understand  if  I  told  you  now," 
said  Jesus,  tranquilly. 

"Is  it  something  hidden4?"  Peter  asked  in  a 
low  voice,  looking  at  the  other  disciples. 

"I  have  no  secrets,"  said  Jesus.  And  then  he 
laughed  and,  teasing  Peter,  said, 

"When  you  light  a  lamp,  Peter,  do  you  put  a 
corn  measure  over  it4?  Or  hide  it  under  the  bed1? 
Do  not  be  afraid.  Truth  cannot  be  kept  hidden. 
What  I  teach  you  in  the  dark  say  again  in  the 
light,  and  what  I  whisper  in  your  ear  shout  from 
the  housetops." 

"Then  why  will  you  not  tell  us  now*?"  said 
Peter. 

"Your  mind  is  full  of  other  things,  and  you 
would  not  have  ears  to  hear.  Take  care  how  you 
listen  when  you  are  not  in  a  mood  to  understand." 

Peter  went  on  urging  him  to  tell,  but  Jesus 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  95 

shook  his  head  and  refused  to  answer.  At  last  he 
said, 

"It  is  not  good  to  let  your  mind  waver  between 
Yea  and  Nay,"  and  then  he  rose,  and  shaking 
the  sand  from  his  clothing,  said:  "Come,  it  is  time 
to  be  going  if  we  are  to  reach  shelter  before  night 
fall." 

Peter  followed  him  silently,  puzzling  over  his 
meaning.  Judas  walked  with  me,  but  he  was  si 
lent  too,  his  face  dark  and  gloomy.  Once  he  mut 
tered  to  himself,  "Playing  with  children  and  with 
Peter  will  not  give  us  the  Kingdom." 

It  was  late  when  we  reached  the  village  in  which 
we  were  to  sleep,  and  we  were  all  tired  out  and 
footsore.  Jesus  told  us  to  tell  no  one  we  had  come, 
so  that  we  could  go  straightway  into  the  house 
and  rest.  He  himself  had  had  little  to  eat  all  day, 
and  when  he  came  into  the  lighted  room,  I  saw 
that  he  was  covered  with  the  dust  of  the  road,  and 
that  his  face  was  weary. 

The  woman  of  the  house  greeted  us  and  offered 
water  to  wash,  and  then  she  said  in  apology  to 
Jesus,  for  she  saw  how  tired  he  was, 

"There  is  a  woman  here,  a  Greek,  a  native  of 
this  place.  She  has  been  waiting  to  see  you,  sir." 

I  was  about  to  ask  him  not  to  see  her  now,  when 
the  Greek  woman  came  swiftly  out  of  the  shadow 
where  she  had  been  sitting,  and  knelt  before  Jesus. 


96  By  an  Unknown  Disciple   

She  was  a  young  woman  and  in  great  distress. 
Her  face  was  white  with  anxiety  as  she  looked  up 
at  him. 

"Sir,"  she  said,  "I  hear  you  are  a  Prophet,  and 
have  the  gift  of  healing.  My  daughter  is  ill.  I 
entreat  you  to  come  and  cure  her." 

For  a  moment  Jesus  hesitated  (and  indeed  he 
was  very  tired),  and  seeing  this  the  woman  cried 
out  like  a  child, 

"Oh,  sir,  I  forgot  that  you  are  a  Jew,  and  that 
the  Jews  think  they  alone  are  children  of  God,  and 
look  upon  all  Greeks  as  dogs." 

And  in  an  agony  of  disappointment  she  bowed 
her  head  over  the  feet  of  Jesus,  holding  them  with 
her  hands. 

There  was  a  smile  in  the  eyes  of  Jesus,  but  his 
voice  was  grave  as  he  answered, 

"Do  you  think  it  fair  to  take  the  children's 
bread  and  throw  it  to  dogs?" 

The  woman  raised  her  head.  Her  bright  eyes 
gleamed  with  sudden  mirth  through  the  tears  that 
brimmed  their  lids,  and  she  spoke  swiftly, 

"No,  sir,  but  the  dogs  under  the  table  feed  on 
the  children's  crumbs";  and  then  the  tears  over 
flowed  and  ran  down  her  cheeks,  and  she  bowed 
herself  together  to  hide  them. 

Jesus  touched  her  on  the  shoulder. 

"You  are  a  witty  woman.     Of  course  I  will 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  97 

come  and  heal  your  daughter,"  he  said,  and  the 
woman  as  if  she  scarcely  believed  she  heard  aright 
rose  to  her  feet  and,  dashing  the  tears  from  her 
eyes,  led  him  away. 


IX 


IT  was  under  the  cedars  of  Lebanon,  where  Her- 
mon  looks  down  on  the  sources  of  the  Jordan, 
that  Jesus  told  us  of  the  great  deeds  he  asked  from 
his  followers. 

We  had  left  the  racket  of  the  coast  towns  far 
behind  us.  The  people  from  the  villages  round 
Tyre  and  Sidon  who  had  followed  Jesus  for  days 
had  said  farewell  with  sorrow  when  we  came  to 
the  high  lands  of  Naphtali,  where  the  bad  road 
runs  from  the  coast  to  Damascus.  The  country 
was  disturbed,  and  in  the  rugged  mountains  north 
of  Dan,  where  the  cold  is  always  at  home,  there 
were  robbers ;  so  now  that  the  crops  were  ripening 
it  was  not  safe  to  leave  them  unguarded.  It  had 
been  lonely  on  the  road  when  the  villages  left  us. 
Caravans  did  not  often  use  this  way,  and  we  were 
the  only  travellers.  At  first,  some  of  the  disciples 
carried  with  them  the  mood  which  they  had  caught 
in  the  cities,  but  slowly  as  we  walked  the  keen  air 
and  the  freedom  of  the  wide  views  around  had  re 
stored  them  to  another  mind.  Peter  had  ceased  to 
talk  of  the  sights  he  had  seen  in  Tyre,  of  the  tall 

98 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  99 

houses  crowded  together  on  its  island  site,  of  the 
mole,  and  of  what  sort  the  engines  of  war  were 
which  Alexander  had  used.  Gossip  of  the  doings 
of  kings  dropped  from  him  as  the  influences  of  the 
high  moor  took  possession  of  him,  and  he  had 
fallen  into  silence. 

We  had  skirted  the  new  town  of  Csesarea  Phil- 
ippi  which  Philip  had  built,  passing  the  grotto 
where  the  Greeks  worshipped  their  god  Pan.  We 
had  seen  on  a  hill  spur  the  white  marble  temple 
which  Herod  the  Great  had  set  up  for  the  worship 
of  Augustus.  And  then  we  had  climbed  to  the 
cedar  forest. 

There  was  absolute  stillness  here.  The  cedars 
spread  their  boughs  in  layer  on  layer  of  green  above 
us,  the  ground  was  thick  with  orange-brown  nee 
dles,  and  the  hot  sun  brought  out  the  keen  smell 
of  resin.  Looking  down  through  the  scaled  trunks 
of  the  trees,  we  could  see  the  marsh  lands  and 
floods  where  the  waters  of  Hermon  fell  into  the 
valley. 

We  had  a  great  talk  there.  Judas  Iscariot  be 
gan  it.  Jesus,  in  his  teaching  of  the  kingdom,  had 
told  the  people  near  Tyre  of  how  they  must  strive 
after  good  and  never  despair,  and  in  his  last  talk 
he  had  spoken  of  the  patience  of  God  and  of  how 
he  helped  men  by  ordering  their  lives  so  that  they 
had  to  learn  their  lesson  or  perish.  Then,  to  cheer 


100  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

them,  he  had  told  a  parable  of  a  barren  fig  tree, 
of  how  God,  who  is  our  father  and  the  gardener 
of  the  soul,  had  seen  that  the  fig  tree  brought  forth 
no  fruit,  and  of  how  he  had  dug  round  it,  and 
dunged  it,  and  pruned  it,  and  at  last  seeing  it  still 
brought  forth  no  fruit,  he  had  ordered  as  its  last 
chance  that  it  should  be  cut  down. 

Peter  and  the  fishermen  who  knew  nothing  of 
gardening,  had  questioned  the  meaning  of  Jesus. 
Judas  too  who  had  lived  mostly  in  Jerusalem,  was 
ignorant  of  the  nature  of  trees.  But  the  people 
understood,  and  an  old  husbandman  in  the  crowd, 
whose  alert  eyes  were  all  wrinkled  round  with 
much  working  in  the  sun,  had  cried  aloud  in  scorn 
of  the  ignorance  of  men  who  knew  not  the  ways 
of  fig  trees. 

"The  Rabbi  is  right.  It  is  the  only  way.  It 
would  grow  again.  Every  gardener  knows  that 
the  fig  fruits  only  on  new  wood." 

This  had  stuck  in  the  mind  of  Judas,  and  now, 
lying  under  the  cedars,  he  said  to  Jesus,  and  there 
was  a  shade  of  blame  in  his  voice, 

"Why  do  you  always  teach  the  people  in  par 
ables'?" 

And  Jesus,  smiling,  replied: 

"Shall  I  answer  by  telling  you  another  par 
able4?" 

So  he  told  us : 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  101 

"There  was  a  certain  man  who  had  to  travel  to 
a  far  country.  Before  he  went  he  called  his  serv 
ants  together,  and  put  them  in  charge  of  his  prop 
erty.  He  judged  the  capacity  of  each  man,  and 
gave  him  what  he  thought  he  could  manage.  To 
one  he  gave  control  over  goods  to  the  value  of  five 
talents,  to  another  to  the  value  of  two,  and  to  a 
third  one;  and  straightway  he  went  on  his  journey. 
He  was  away  for  a  long  time,  and  when  he  came 
back  he  asked  his  servants  to  give  in  their  reckon 
ing.  And  the  first  came  and  showed  him  ten  tal 
ents,  saying, 

"  'Lord,  behold  you  gave  me  five  talents,  and 
I  have  made  them  into  ten.' 

"And  his  lord  said, 

"  'Well  done.  You  have  been  faithful  over  a 
few  things.  I  will  make  you  ruler  over  many.' 

"Then  he  that  had  received  two  talents  came 
with  shame,  and  showed  that  his  hands  were  empty 
in  that  he  had  devoured  his  talents  with  harlots 
and  flute-women,  and  him  the  lord  blamed.  But 
the  third,  who  had  received  the  one  talent,  came 
and  showed  it  him  untouched  as  he  had  received  it, 
and  he  said, 

"  'Lord,  I  knew  that  you  were  a  hard  man  who 
would  reap  what  you  had  not  sown,  and  gather 
where  you  had  not  threshed,  and  I  was  afraid  lest 
I  should  make  a  bad  use  of  the  talent  or  lose  it. 


102  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

So  I  hid  it  in  the  ground,  and,  lo,  there  you  have 
what  is  yours.' 

"And  his  lord  was  very  angry,  and  said, 

"  'You  wicked  and  lazy  servant !  You  knew 
I  reap  where  I  have  not  sown,  and  gather  what  I 
have  not  threshed.  How  dare  you  waste  the  tal 
ent"?  At  least  you  might  have  lent  it  to  a  banker, 
when  it  would  have  made  some  growth.'  And  he 
commanded  him  to  be  cast  out." 

Jesus  stopped.  Judas,  who  had  listened  with  a 
half-frown  on  his  face,  said  nothing,  and  Jesus, 
watching  him,  smiled  and  said, 

"Well,  Judas,  have  I  justified  myself?' 

Judas,  as  if  half-reluctantly,  snr.led  too. 

"What  is  your  meaning?"  he  asked. 

"That  men  must  learn  to  use  their  powers.  To 
those  who  try  to  have  understanding  more  will  be 
given,  while  from  those  who  do  not  try,  even  what 
understanding  they  have  will  be  taken  away." 

This  did  not  please  Peter.  He  grumbled  as  if 
he  felt  cheated,  saying  men  could  not  help  their 
minds,  and  that  all  were  not  born  clever.  But 
Jesus  answered  him, 

"It  is  God's  will  to  give  you  the  kingdom,  but 
if  you  have  not  kept  the  little,  who  will  give  you 
the  great?  It  is  the  spirit  that  teaches.  Begin 
therefore  with  little  things,  and  seek  from  small 
to  wax  great." 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  103 

Judas  said, 

"Men  will  never  use  their  minds.  They  prefer 
repose." 

And  Jesus  cried  out, 

"Do  you  think  I  am  here  to  give  repose  to  the 
world4?  I  tell  you  no,  but  to  cause  division.  I  am 
here,  not  to  cast  peace  but  a  sword  on  the  earth. 
I  came  to  kindle  men's  souls  and  to  set  the  world 
on  fire." 

His  face  was  radiant  and  his  eyes  shining. 

"I  tell  you  that  now  the  kingdom  is  being 
preached,  men  everywhere  are  forcing  their  way 
into  it.  It  is  God's  will  that  men  should  have  life 
and  have  it  in  greater  fullness.  Think  you  this 
will  not  cause  division1?  If  a  man  seek  the  king 
dom,  his  enemies  shall  be  those  of  his  own  house 
hold,  and  even  his  old  familiar  friends,  in  whom 
he  trusted,  will  turn  against  him.  But  I  am  here 
to  teach  men  to  be  lawgivers  to  themselves,  and 
he  who  is  daunted  by  any  man  is  not  worthy  of 
me." 

His  passion  woke  passion  in  every  man  of  us. 
It  was  as  if  a  fire  lit  up  in  our  souls  and  ran 
through  our  veins.  Judas's  eyes  burned  in  his 
head,  and  Peter  cried  out, 

"Master,  tell  us  of  the  great  deeds  you  said  we 
should  do." 

Jesus  looked  at  him  and  then  at  Judas,  and  a 


104  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

cloud  came  over  the  brightness  of  his  face.  The 
passion  died  out  of  his  eyes,  and  there  was  a  ques 
tion  in  them  as  though  he  feared  misunderstanding. 
He  seemed  to  withdraw  into  himself  seeking 
strength  greater  than  his  own,  and  when  at  last  he 
spoke,  it  was  slowly  as  a  man  seeks  for  words  to 
express  a  thing  too  great  for  words. 

"All  over  the  world,  Princes  oppress  their  sub 
jects,  and  the  very  men  whom  they  enslave  call 
them  Benefactors.  The  great  exercise  dominion 
over  those  who  are  weak,  and  everywhere  men  seek 
after  power.  But  amongst  you  it  shall  not  be  so. 
For  in  the  kingdom  of  Heaven,  who  ever  wishes 
to  be  great  must  serve,  and  he  who  strives  to  hold 
high  place  must  be  a  servant." 

"Then  there  is  to  be  no  kingdom,"  Peter  called 
out  in  dismay. 

Jesus  turned  to  him. 

"Do  not  judge  by  appearances,  Peter.  Judge 
justly.  The  glory  of  the  princes  of  this  world  is 
mean  and  poor  before  the  glory  God  shows  to  those 
who  love  him.  Look  at  the  works  of  men  and 
your  heart  will  dwindle.  Did  any  man  ever  yet 
look  at  the  works  of  God  and  feel  a  less  man  be 
cause  of  them*?  It  is  because  men  seek  the  honours 
that  come  from  men  that  they  do  not  see  the  glory 
that  comes  from  God.  For  God's  glory  is  love 
and  truth,  and  he  gives  us  gift  after  gift  of  love. 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  105 

Yet  God,  who  is  the  giver  of  all,  is  the  servant  of 
all." 

Peter  was  silent.  Judas  Iscariot  sat  with  his 
head  bowed  down. 

But  Nathaniel  said, 

"Master,  teach  us  to  see." 

And  Jesus  answered, 

"Is  not  the  light  of  the  body  the  eye4?  When 
your  eye  is  unclouded  the  whole  world  is  lit  up. 
But  when  your  eye  is  diseased  the  whole  world  is 
dark.  So  it  is  with  the  spirit.  If  men  dull  their 
souls  by  debauches,  or  drunkenness,  or  by  the  anx 
ieties  of  life,  the  inner  light  which  is  in  them  is 
darkened.  In  truth  I  tell  you  that,  unless  men 
become  like  little  children,  they  cannot  enter  the 
kingdom  of  God.  He  that  hath  marvelled  shall 
reign.  If  a  man  does  not  look  at  life  with  his 
heart  full  of  love  and  wonder  like  a  child,  he  will 
never  see  God.  For  God  reveals  things  to  the 
child-like  which  he  hides  from  the  clever  and 
learned." 

"Can  any  man  prefer  darkness  to  light1?"  John 
asked. 

"A  man  who  lives  an  evil  life  hates  the  light, 
and  will  not  come  into  it  for  fear  that  in  it  he 
should  see  himself,"  said  Jesus.  "No  man  who 
lives  up  to  his  light  fears  to  face  the  truth.  If  men 
do  not  trouble  to  hear,  they  become  dull  of  hear- 


106  By -an  Unknown  Disciple 

ing;  if  they  do  not  care  to  live  in  the  light,  they 
become  blind.  So  it  is  with  the  spirit.  I  speak 
what  I  know.  Heaven  and  earth  will  pass  away, 
but  these  laws  will  never  pass." 

When  Jesus  had  said  this  he  was  silent.  The 
great  boughs  of  the  cedars  swayed  slowly  in  a  sud 
den  wind,  and  far  in  the  forest  a  bough  cracked 
and  dropped  heavily  to  the  ground.  For  a  time 
the  disciples  were  silent  too,  listening  to  the  sounds 
of  the  forest,  and  then  they  fell  to  talk  amongst 
themselves.  They  spoke  of  the  crowds  who  fol 
lowed  Jesus  and  of  the  ways  men  worked  to  get 
their  livings.  Then  they  spoke  of  the  things  they 
had  heard  the  people  of  Tyre  and  Sidon  say,  and 
of  what  men  were  saying  of  Jesus. 

"One  man  said  he  was  John  the  Baptizer,  new- 
risen  from  the  dead,"  said  a  disciple,  while  another 
said, 

"I  heard  a  woman  say  he  was  Elijah." 
"No,  it  was  Jeremiah,"  said  a  third. 
"They  all  said  he  was  one  of  the  old  Prophets 
Vho  had  risen  again  to  help  us,"  said  another. 
Suddenly  Jesus  turned  to  them  and  said, 
"And  who  do  you  yourselves  say  I  am?" 
The    disciples,    taken    aback,    looked    at    one 
another,  but  did  not  answer.    Peter  kept  quiet  for 
a  moment  pondering,  and  then  his  mind  seemed 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  107 

to  make  a  jump,  and  he  cried  out,  his  eyes  bright 
with  love  and  enthusiasm, 

"I  say  you  are  the  Messiah." 

Jesus  looked  at  him,  and  there  was  a  great  af 
fection  in  his  eyes,  but  his  voice  was  sad  when 
he  spoke. 

"Do  you  know  what  it  means  to  be  a  Messiah, 
Peter  T  he  asked. 

Peter  shook  his  head.  Jesus  went  on,  speaking 
as  a  man  speaks  of  things  long  thought  over. 

"If  a  man  would  be  a  Deliverer  he  must  be 
ready  to  undergo  much  pain  and  to  suffer.  He 
will  be  rejected  by  his  own  generation.  The  coun 
cillors  and  the  priests  and  the  teachers  will  not 
listen  to  him.  He  will  be  spat  on  and  despised; 
he  will  have  contempt  and  scorn  for  his  portion, 
and,  at  the  last,  it  may  be  he  will  lose  his  life." 

He  ceased,  and  no  one  spoke.  Peter  looked  un 
comfortable,  but  after  a  moment  he  rallied  him 
self,  and  began  to  rebuke  Jesus. 

"Please  God,  Master,  that  will  never  be  your 
fate,"  he  said. 

Jesus  turned  to  him,  and  there  was  pain  in  his 
voice. 

"You  are  hindering  me,  Peter.  You  do  not  look 
on  things  as  God  does,  but  as  man  does.  I  have 
a  work  to  do,  however  great  be  my  distress  before 
it  is  finished.  If  a  man  puts  his  hand  to  the  plough 


108  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

and  looks  back,  he  is  not  fit  for  the  Kingdom  of 
God.  Do  not  tempt  me  to  fear  those  who  have 
power  to  kill  the  body.  They  can  never  kill  the 
soul." 

Again  he  was  silent,  and  when  he  spoke,  it  was 
with  balance  and  judgment,  as  a  man  speaks  of 
something  of  which  he  has  counted  the  cost. 

"Through  anguish  and  suffering  men  enter  the 
kingdom.  He  who  wishes  to  be  my  follower  must 
take  up  his  cross  and  deny  himself.  If  a  man  is 
not  ready  to  lose  his  life  for  the  kingdom  he  will 
lose  himself.  Where  is  the  profit  if  in  gaining 
the  world  a  man  loses  his  soul'?  Can  he  earn 
aught  of  value  equal  to  himself?  I  tell  you  that 
he  who  is  ready  to  lose  his  life  for  my  sake  has 
found  himself,  and  if  a  man  endure  to  the  end  he 
shall  find  life  too.  For  it  is  by  endurance  that 
men  win  life." 

It  was  after  this  teaching  that  Jesus  sent  the 
disciples  through  Galilee  to  spread  the  good  news, 
but  he  himself  went  round  the  lake  by  way  of  the 
Greek  cities  to  Capernaum,  where  he  was  to  spend 
the  summer. 


X 


THE  house  in  which  Jesus  lived  at  Capernaum 
was  near  the  northern  entrance  to  the  town 
where  the  road  from  Damascus  first  touches  the 
lake.  It  was  a  small  house  by  the  roadside.  Be 
hind  it  the  ground  sloped  down  to  the  beach  where 
boats  could  be  drawn  up  for  repair.  There  was  a 
space  of  beaten-down  earth  all  round  the  house, 
with  here  and  there  a  cardoon  or  an  aloe,  and  in 
one  corner  of  this  rough  courtyard  a  clump  of 
tall  palms  nodded  their  plumes  together. 

Capernaum  was  a  large  town,  and  there  was 
plenty  of  work  for  a  carpenter.  The  boats  that 
daily  went  out  in  fleets  to  fish  on  the  blue  waters 
of  the  lake  were  in  constant  need  of  repair,  so 
were  the  fittings  of  the  caravans  that  passed  to 
and  fro  on  the  road,  and  the  tools  of  the  husband 
men  who  cultivated  the  garden-like  land  round 
the  lake.  Jesus  and  his  brothers  were  always  busy. 
James  was  older  than  Jesus  and  very  like  him  in 
the  face,  but  of  a  heavier,  harder  make.  The  other 
brothers,  Simon  and  Judas  and  Joseph,  were  not 
always  at  home,  but  came  and  went  as  the  work 

109 


110  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

called.  The  sisters  of  Jesus  were  married,  and  I 
seldom  saw  them.  They  were  a  kind  family  and 
fond  of  each  other,  for,  though  there  had  been 
much  talk  of  how  they  had  checked  Jesus  when 
his  message  first  came  to  him,  by  this  time  they 
had  accepted  his  teaching  and  helped  him  where 
they  could.  I  never  asked  Jesus  why  he  and  his 
family  had  left  Nazareth,  but  I  think  it  was  be 
cause  they  had  found  it  hard  to  earn  their  bread 
there.  Nazareth  was  a  small,  poor  village,  and 
out  of  the  beaten  track.  Jesus  was  urgent  to  make 
his  living,  but  he  was  more  urgent  to  deliver  his 
message,  and  Capernaum  was  better  fitted  for  both 
purposes  than  Nazareth.  He  could  teach  as  he 
worked,  and  when  he  had  earned  enough  to  buy 
leisure  for  a  few  days,  he  could  leave  the  business 
in  the  care  of  James,  and  go  off  to  teach  in  another 
part  of  the  country.  The  house  was  kept  by  Mary, 
who  was  often  to  be  seen  in  her  blue  garments, 
either  cleaning  inside  it,  or  going  to  the  well  to 
draw  water. 

The  beaten  earth  of  the  courtyard  was  swept 
clean  every  morning  by  either  Jesus  or  James, 
and  here,  sitting  by  the  roadside  under  the  palms, 
Jesus  made  ploughs  and  yokes  for  oxen,  or  mended 
the  pack-saddles  and  other  matters  belonging  to 
the  caravans  that  passed  on  the  road.  Here,  in 
the  evening  after  sunset,  the  people  brought  to  him 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  111 

those  who  were  ill,  until  sometimes  the  whole  city 
seemed  to  be  gathered  round  his  door. 

Here  lingered  the  strange  caravan  leaders  from 
distant  countries  to  listen  to  his  talk  and  tell  him 
of  the  doings  in  their  own  lands.  Here,  too,  came 
the  Pharisees  and  teachers  of  the  law,  sometimes 
out  of  interest  to  hear  what  the  new  teacher  had 
to  say,  but  more  often  to  spy  round  and  pick  holes 
in  the  teaching.  And  here,  too,  came  I  to  sit  with 
Jesus  in  the  dust  and  talk. 

I  could  not  come  as  often  as  I  wished,  for  all 
that  summer  I  was  hard  at  work.  I  was  master 
of  flocks  and  of  herds,  of  cornlands  and  vineyards, 
but  when  I  asked  Jesus  what  way  I  was  to  deal 
with  them  he  shook  his  head  and  would  not  tell 
me. 

"What  would  you  do*?"  I  urged. 

"How  could  I  teach  if  I  had  the  cares  of 
riches'?"  he  asked.  "You  must  do  it  for  yourself. 
How  would  you  learn  if  I  told  you?" 

"Must  I  give  all  to  the  poor?"  I  questioned. 

"Could  the  love  of  God  dwell  in  you  if  you 
steel  your  heart  and  look  on  while  your  brother  is 
in  want?"  he  answered. 

I  felt  Jesus  himself  would  have  given  all  away, 
but  I  was  of  a  different  build,  so  I  set  to  work 
with  Nicodemus,  who  was  in  some  sort  my  guar 
dian,  and  during  all  that  summer  I  came  back- 


112  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

wards  and  forwards  to  Capernaum  to  tell  Jesus  of 
our  plans.  Nicodemus  was  too  much  a  man  of 
God  to  stop  me  or  hold  back  anything,  but  he  was 
wise  as  well  as  just,  so  we  began  by  giving  the 
labourers  a  larger  hire.  We  increased  the  shep 
herd's  share  of  the  lambs  and  the  vine-grower's 
share  of  the  grapes.  The  husbandmen  got  a  great 
er  portion  of  the  wheat,  and  we  began  to  copy  the 
Romans  and  made  plans  for  bringing  water  by 
channels  to  the  villages.  We  repaired  the  gates 
and  walls  to  guard  against  the  robbers  who  would 
in  certainty  come  against  the  villages  as  the  in 
habitants  grew  wealthier.  We  made  a  store  of 
grain  for  the  head-man  to  use  for  hospitality,  and 
in  those  villages  which  had  none  we  planned  to 
build  synagogues. 

This  was  all  hard  work,  and  it  was  a  rest  to 
come  and  sit  with  Jesus,  and,  where  I  could — but 
that  I  was  unskilful — help  him  in  his  work.  James 
scorned  me  for  my  unhandiness,  but  Jesus  taught 
me  how  to  smooth  the  elbow  of  wood  for  the 
ploughshare,  and  to  fit  the  six  pieces  of  the  plough 
together.  He  showed  me  how  to  make  wooden 
locks,  and  how  to  bore  the  holes  in  the  ox-yokes, 
and  I  marvelled  when  I  saw  the  care  with  which 
he  worked  when  he  fitted  the  yoke-pegs.  I  told 
him  so,  and  he  said, 

"The  oxen  are  working  to  make  our  bread.    If 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  113 

the  yoke  does  not  fit  they  will  suffer,  and  their 
owner  will  always  be  adjusting  it.  If  you  love 
your  neighbours,  you  want  them  to  work  without 
irk.  Therefore  I  take  pains." 

"Will  your  neighbour  be  pleased*?"  I  asked. 

"Each  time  he  puts  this  yoke  on  his  oxen  and 
sees  how  well  it  fits,  his  heart  ought  to  glow  within 
him,  and  he  be  full  of  love.  But  if  it  is  not  so, 
what  then1?  God  sends  his  rain  on  the  just  and 
the  unjust,  and  the  man  has  paid  for  the  yoke." 

Another  day  he  was  mending  a  camel  chest  and 
he  told  me, 

"This  chest  will  go  to  Damascus  and  the  Indies 
with  a  wise  man  with  whom  I  have  had  much  talk. 
It  may  be  that  each  time  he  looks  at  it  he  will 
think  of  the  carpenter  at  Capernaum  who  mended 
it  just  to  his  liking.  He  is  a  brown-faced  man, 
with  eyes  like  jewels,  and  has  much  wisdom.  He 
knows  that  if  man  is  to  have  joy  he  must  labour, 
not  only  for  bread  for  the  body  which  perishes, 
but  for  living  bread  for  the  soul  which  God  our 
Father  gives  us  when  we  love  one  another." 

These  were  times  when  by  chance  we  were  alone, 
but  we  were  not  often  left  to  ourselves.  The  peo 
ple  all  round  flocked  to  hear  the  teaching,  and 
the  courtyard  was  seldom  empty.  There  was  a 
passion  of  pity  in  Jesus,  and  he  loved  people  as  I 
have  never  known  another  love.  They  came  to 


114  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

him  with  all  their  pains,  and  he  healed  both  body 
and  soul.  No  matter  how  tired  he  was,  he  gath 
ered  his  strength  together  to  help,  and  when  the 
power  came  on  him,  no  evil  could  stand  before 
him.  I  got  to  know  that  small  house  as  well  as 
my  own,  and  the  very  sight  of  it  made  a  well  of 
joy  and  romance  spring  up  in  my  heart.  Each  time 
I  returned  I  found  the  same  peace,  Mary  tending 
the  house  and  Jesus  working  at  his  trade,  and  al 
ways  there  was  that  sense  of  complete  understand 
ing  of  others  that  is  like  a  beautiful  colour  in  the 
sky  or  cold  well-water  in  a  parching  land. 

It  was  in  that  rude  courtyard,  on  the  clean- 
swept  beaten  earth  under  the  palm  trees  where 
the  ox-yokes  were  stacked,  that  I  first  heard  Jesus 
speak  of  God  in  man.  I  remember  that  it  was  on 
a  day  when  the  peace  of  the  courtyard  had  been 
broken  by  the  Pharisees.  It  was  summer  and  dry 
weather.  The  sun  had  shone  all  day  long,  and  the 
sky  was  as  blue  as  the  lake.  When  the  day's  work 
was  done  Jesus  had  swept  the  chips  and  shavings 
from  the  courtyard  with  the  broom  of  twigs,  and 
Mary,  the  mother,  had  brought  us  out  round  ban 
nocks  of  meal  which  she  had  just  made,  and  bowls 
of  sour  milk.  Then,  when  the  sun  was  low  and 
the  palms  showed  like  moulded  metal  against  the 
pale,  still  sky,  the  people  had  gathered  one  by  one 
into  the  courtyard. 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  115 

They  were  chiefly  people  of  the  town,  fishermen 
from  the  lake,  who  had  left  their  nets  in  the  boats 
drawn  up  on  the  beach,  and  men  from  the  tan 
neries  and  dyeworks  who  had  brought  their  wives. 
There  were  some  merchants  of  the  better  sort,  and 
the  courtyard  was  nearly  full,  when  a  party  of 
Pharisees  arrived.  These  were  men  of  substance, 
cheesemongers  and  oilmen  and  corn-chandlers, 
with  one  or  two  landowners,  to  whom  the  others 
paid  much  deference.  They  were  all  men  of  posi 
tion  and  respectable,  who  bore  rule  over  their 
households  and  kept  their  own  laws,  thinking  their 
class  the  one  perfect  class.  As  I  watched  them 
push  forward  to  the  best  places,  with  a  hard  dis 
regard  of  other  people's  feelings,  I  noted  that  their 
faces  all  bore  the  same  smug  stamp.  Though  a 
man's  mouth  be  hidden  in  his  beard,  the  lines  of 
his  face  cannot  lie  and  his  eyes  betray  his  soul. 
There  is  no  depth  in  the  eye  of  a  Pharisee,  and  his 
face  cries  his  character  aloud.  Amongst  these  men 
I  saw  here  the  round  dense  eyes  of  one  secure  in 
his  self-righteousness,  and  there  the  flat  inward- 
turning  eye  of  the  more  uneasy  lover  of  self,  afraid 
that  due  honour  will  not  be  ceded  him,  and  per 
sistently  crying  out  for  flattery.  They  looked 
from  side  to  side,  and  made  comments  on  all  they 
saw,  as  if  all  other  men  were  deaf,  and  this  a 
show  provided  to  entertain  them  and  to  pass  an 


116  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

idle  hour.  And  the  people  gave  way  before  their 
unconscious  insolence  as  they  elbowed  their  path 
to  where  Jesus  sat  under  the  palm  trees.  Some 
women  of  the  town  were  standing  near  by  with 
Mary  Magdalene,  and  when  the  Pharisees  caught 
sight  of  these  there  was  a  stir  amongst  them  and 
much  nodding  of  heads,  and  sly  calling  the  atten 
tion  of  one  and  the  other  to  their  presence.  One 
said  to  another  in  a  whisper  that  all  could  hear, 

"This  man  welcomes  all  outcasts.  He  even 
takes  meals  with  tax-gatherers." 

They  did  not  greet  Jesus,  but  when  they  had 
settled  themselves  with  fuss  on  the  only  seat,  a 
rough  board  laid  on  logs,  one  of  them,  a  fat  man, 
said  with  condescension, 

"Well,  Teacher,  we  have  heard  a  great  deal  of 
your  doctrine,  and  we  have  come  to  see  you  work 
a  miracle." 

Jesus  turned  to  the  Pharisees.  There  was  no 
resentment  in  his  attitude,  but  there  was  an 
amused  look  in  his  eyes,  and  the  people,  seeing 
this,  pressed  closer  to  hear  what  he  was  going  to 
say. 

"Cannot  you  yourself  decide  what  is  right  with 
out  a  miracle1?  When  you  see  a  cloud  rising  in 
the  west,  straightway  you  say  'There  is  a  shower 
coming,'  and  so  it  is.  When  the  south  wind  blows 
you  say  'There  will  be  heat,'  and  so  it  cometh  to 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  117 

pass.  You  know  how  to  judge  of  earth  and  sky. 
Cannot  you  judge  in  this  also*?" 

"But  we  want  to  see  a  sign  from  you,  Teacher," 
said  the  fat  man.  He  looked  out  of  the  corners 
of  his  eyes  at  his  neighbour  as  if  with  some  secret 
meaning,  and  folded  his  thick  hands  on  his  stom 
ach. 

Jesus  in  one  quick  look  seemed  to  measure  and 
sum  up  the  worth  of  the  men  before  him.  Then 
he  said, 

"No  sign  will  be  given  you,"  and  there  was  no 
appeal  from  the  decision  in  his  voice. 

The  Pharisees  were  taken  aback.  They  leaned 
together  rather  foolishly,  and  whispered  as  if  they 
asked  one  another  what  next  to  say.  Then  one 
of  them,  a  tall,  lean  man,  with  an  uneasy  eye, 
said  aloud, 

"He  cannot  do  it.  He  casts  out  devils  by  the 
power  of  Satan,  and  if  Satan  be  not  here  he  is 
powerless." 

The  people  murmured  when  they  heard  this, 
but  Jesus  laughed  and  said, 

"How  can  a  devil  cast  out  devils'?  Will  Satan 
revolt  against  himself?  If  he  does,  how  can  his 
kingdom  stand  *?  Is  not  a  tree  known  by  its  fruits  *? 
A  good  tree  produces  good  fruit  and  a  bad  tree 
bad  fruit.  Surely  you  must  know  that  either  tree 


118  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

and  fruit  are  bad  or  that  both  tree  and  fruit  are 
good." 

The  Pharisees  had  no  answer  ready,  and  before 
they  could  find  one  Jesus  went  on, 

"What  fills  a  man's  heart  will  rise  to  his  lips. 
Let  me  tell  you  a  story.  There  were  two  men  who 
went  up  to  the  temple  to  pray,  one  was  a  Pharisee 
and  the  other  a  tax-gatherer.  The  Pharisee  stood 
where  all  men  could  see  him  and  prayed  aloud, 
'Oh,  God,  I  thank  you  that  I  am  not  as  other  men 
are,  thieves,  rogues,  and  adulterers,  or  even  like 
this  tax-gatherer.  /  fast  twice  a  week,  and  give  a 
tenth  of  all  that  I  receive  to  God." 

One  of  the  fishermen  gave  a  great  laugh,  but 
stifled  it  at  once,  and  Jesus  went  on, 

"The  tax-gatherer  stood  where  men  could  not 
see  him,  and  he  smote  his  breast  and  prayed,  'God 
be  merciful  to  me,  a  sinner.'  I  tell  you  this  man 
went  home  pardoned  rather  than  the  other.  For 
he  who  exalts  himself  shall  be  humbled,  and  he 
who  is  humble  shall  be  exalted." 

The  uneasy-eyed  Pharisee,  as  if  he  feared  a  hurt 
to  his  dignity,  asked  sharply, 

"Are  you  telling  this  with  reference  to  us1?" 

And  Jesus  answered, 

"I  am  not  here  to  call  the  righteous  to  repent, 
but  sinners.  Those  who  are  well  do  not  need 
any  physician." 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  119 

"We  have  always  kept  the  law  of  Moses,"  an 
swered  the  Pharisee. 

"You  can  justify  yourselves  before  men,  but 
take  care.  God  knows  your  hearts,  and  what  is 
greatly  admired  by  men  may  be  abomination  in 
the  sight  of  God." 

"Moses  gave  us  the  law,"  said  another  Pharisee. 
And  Jesus  said, 

"Why  do  not  you  yourselves  think  out  what  is 
right  and  do  it4?  But  you  clean  the  outside  of 
the  cup  and  then  fill  it  inside  with  greed  and  self- 
indulgence.  You  are  careful  to  strain  out  a  gnat 
and  then  you  swallow  a  camel.  You  pay  the  tithes 
on  mint,  fennel,  and  caraway-seed,  and  neglect 
justice  and  mercy  and  the  love  of  God." 

He  did  not  speak  in  anger,  but  as  if  these  things 
were  manifest  to  all  men,  and  the  Pharisees  were 
disturbed  as  they  listened,  and  one  said  so  that 
we  all  heard, 

"Is  not  this  man  Jesus,  the  carpenter*?  Are  not 
his  brothers  Joseph  and  James  and  Simon,  and 
his  mother  Mary?  How  comes  he  to  talk  like  this 
to  us1?" 

"Every  one  who  does  the  will  of  God  is  my 
brother  and  sister,"  said  Jesus.  "But  you  Phari 
sees  have  neither  brothers  nor  sisters.  If  you  do 
not  love  your  brother  whom  you  have  seen,  how 
can  you  love  God  whom  you  have  never  seen1?" 


120  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

The  Pharisees  were  angry  at  this,  but  Jesus  said, 

"Listen.  There  was  a  certain  rich  man  who  had 
a  steward,  and  a  report  was  brought  to  him  that 
the  steward  was  wasting  his  goods.  So  the  master 
called  him  and  said,  'How  is  it  that  I  learn  this 
about  you?  You  cannot  be  any  longer  steward, 
therefore  give  in  the  account  of  your  stewardship.' 

"Then  the  steward  said  within  himself, 

"  'What  shall  I  do?  My  lord  taketh  away 
from  me  the  stewardship;  I  have  no  strength  to 
dig;  to  beg  I  am  ashamed.  I  know!  This  will 
I  do,  so  that  when  I  am  turned  out  people  will 
welcome  me  to  their  houses.' 

"So  he  called  up  his  lord's  debtors,  and  one  by 
one  he  spoke  to  them.  To  the  first  he  said, 

"  'How  much  do  you  owe  my  lord?'  And  the 
debtor  answered,  'Nine  hundred  and  seventy-five 
gallons  of  oil.' 

"  'Here  is  your  bill.  Sit  down  quickly  and 
write  five  hundred  and  five  gallons.'  'And  you,' 
he  said  to  the  next  debtor,  'how  much  do  you  owe?' 

"  'Seventy  quarters  of  wheat,'  said  the  man. 

"  'Here  is  your  account.  Change  it  to  fifty-six,' 
said  the  steward. 

"The  master,  when  he  heard,  complimented  this 
dishonest  steward  on  his  shrewdness." 

"But  the  man  was  a  scoundrel,"  interrupted  the 
Pharisees  in  indignation. 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  121 

"That  may  be,"  answered  Jesus,  with  tran 
quillity.  "But  such  men  are  often  wiser  than  you 
children  of  light.  For  they  make  friends  for 
themselves,  even  with  their  sins,  while  you  make 
no  friends  at  all.  I  tell  you  it  is  better  to  make 
friends  even  by  the  use  of  dishonest  money,  than 
it  is  to  go  through  life  friendless." 

"You  are  preaching  rank  immorality,"  cried 
the  Pharisees. 

There  was  a  change  in  the  face  of  Jesus.  The 
tranquillity  left  his  eyes,  and  he  spoke  sternly, 

"You  blind  guides,"  he  said,  "not  only  do  you 
fall  into  the  ditch  yourself,  but  you  lead  others 
to  fall  also.  I  tell  you  that  harlots  and  publicans 
will  go  before  you  into  the  kingdom  of  God  be 
cause  they  care.  They  have  loved  their  fellows, 
but  you  love  no  one.  For  no  man  loves  less  than 
he  who  needs  no  repentance." 

"You  were  born  a  nobody,  and  do  you  teach 
us !"  cried  the  Pharisees,  and  one  said  in  scorn, 

"The  man  is  insane.    Come,  let  us  leave  him." 

"He  is  worse  than  mad.  He  is  wicked,"  cried 
another,  and  they  all  rose  and,  shaking  their  gar 
ments,  began  to  push  their  way  out  of  the  court 
yard,  jostling  the  people  angrily,  though  they  had 
done  naught  to  them.  They  took  a  long  time  to 
file  out,  and  the  people  kept  silence  till  they  had 
gone.  When  the  last  Pharisee  had  withdrawn, 


122  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

and  the  air  seemed  cleared  of  oppression  and  men 
breathed  freely  again,  Jesus  said,  and  as  he  spoke 
peace  and  good-will  settled  again  on  the  courtyard, 

"The  Pharisees  have  hidden  the  k^y  of  the 
knowledge  of  the  kingdom.  They  will  not  go  in 
themselves,  or  suffer  others  to  enter.  Beware  of 
their  leaven.  Theirs  is  not  true  bread.  Neverthe 
less,  if  they  teach  you  of  the  law  of  God,  lay 
what  they  say  to  heart,  but  do  not  do  anything 
that  they  do,  for  they  teach  what  they  do  not 
practise." 

A  woman  cried  out,  and  there  was  scorn  in  her 
voice, 

"Do  not  heed  them,  master.  Tell  us  your  own 
teaching  of  the  kingdom." 

And  Jesus  answered, 

"My  teaching  is  not  mine,  but  His  who  sent  me. 
If  you  do  God's  will,  you  will  learn  whether  the 
doctrine  comes  from  God  or  whether  I  made  it  of 
myself." 

"When  shall  we  see  the  kingdom  come  to  pass*?" 
asked  one  in  the  crowd. 

"The  Kingdom  of  God  will  never  be  found  by 
looking  for  it,"  Jesus  answered. 

"You  will  never  be  able  to  say,  cLo,  here,'  or 
'Lo,  there  is  the  kingdom !'  The  Kingdom  of  God 
is  within  you.  Whoever  shall  know  himself  shall 
find  it," 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  123 

The  people  were  silent,  pondering  over  this 
teaching,  and,  after  a  moment,  Jesus  said, 

"It  is  in  the  hearts  of  men  that  God  has  his 
dwelling.  Let  him  who  seeks  the  kingdom  cease 
not  till  he  find  it.  Strive  to  know  yourselves,  and 
you  shall  be  aware  that  you  are  the  sons  of  the 
father.  No  man  has  seen  God,  yet  if  we  love  one 
another  we  live  in  God  and  God  in  us.  This  is  the 
true  bread,  the  bread  that  God  gives,  that  gives 
life  to  the  world." 

"Master,  give  us  this  bread,"  cried  out  the  peo 
ple. 

"The  bread  of  life  is  this  knowledge  of  God. 
Just  as  God  the  father  has  life  within  himself, 
so  has  he  granted  this  bread  to  his  children  that 
they  may  have  the  same  life.  It  is  by  love  that 
men  pass  out  of  death  into  life.  He  who  does 
not  love  has  never  been  alive." 

A  workman  who  was  dyed  from  head  to  foot 
in  the  dyes  in  which  he  had  worked  all  day,  said, 

"Teach  us  to  know  God." 

Jesus  paused,  and  in  the  silence  nothing  was 
heard  but  the  lap-lapping  of  the  lake  water  on 
the  shore. 

Then  he  answered, 

"Men  take  seven  years  to  learr>  i  trade,  but 
they  think  to  know  God  in  a  day.  Think  you  that 
the  knowledge  of  God  can  be  gamed  with  more 


124  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

ease  than  you  learned  your  craft*?  If  you  would 
believe  in  God,  you  must  be  able  to  feel  God. 
You  must  watch  God  work  just  as  you  watch, 
slowly  and  with  care,  to  gain  the  knowledge  of 
your  craft.  The  birds  of  the  air,  and  all  the  beasts 
that  are  upon  the  earth,  and  the  fishes  of  the  sea, 
will  teach  you  to  know  God.  I  can  do  nothing  of 
myself.  I  can  only  do  what  I  see  God  doing,  and 
I  learn  only  by  watching  God  work." 

The  man  was  silent,  abashed,  and  Jesus  said 
gently, 

"God  loves  his  children,  and  shows  them  all  that 
he  is  doing.  Is  it  not  written,  'All  thy  children 
shall  be  taught  of  God,  and  great  shall  be  the 
peace  of  thy  children"?  Therefore  do  not  love 
with  words  only  but  with  deeds  and  loyalty.  I 
tell  you  that  he  who  does  not  love  will  never  know 
God,  but  he  who  lives  in  love  lives  in  God  and 
God  in  him,  for  God  is  love." 

By  this  time  it  was  night,  and  when  Jesus  had 
said  this  he  spoke  no  more,  and  the  people,  all 
pondering  deeply,  went  away  to  their  homes.  But 
Jesus  himself  went  up  to  the  mountains,  and  spent 
the  night  alone  in  prayer. 


XI 


IT  was  full  summer  before  the  disciples  re 
turned  to  Capernaum.  Judas  Isca-riot  was  the 
last  to  come  in.  As  I  went  down  the  Way  of  the 
Sea  I  met  him  at  the  fork  of  the  road  stalking 
along  from  Rameh.  His  flesh  had  fallen  away 
from  his  bones,  and  his  face  was  gaunt  and  grim. 
Some  purpose  seemed  to  fill  his  mind  and  drive 
him  forward,  for  his  features  worked  as  he  walked, 
and  he  talked  to  himself.  When  I  greeted  him  he 
stopped  and  looked  at  me  half-bewildered  as  if 
he  had  never  seen  my  face  before,  and  then  sud 
denly  he  seemed  to  fit  me  into  a  place  in  his 
memory,  for  he  called  out  eagerly, 

"Is  Jesus  at  Capernaum*?"  And  when  I  said 
that  he  was,  he  forged  forward  again  as  if  his 
purpose  so  filled  his  mind  that  there  was  room  for 
nothing  else.  His  eyes  were  bent  on  some  point 
far  ahead  of  him,  and,  like  a  dog  on  a  trail,  he 
made  straight  for  that.  He  walked  so  fast  that 
it  was  hard  to  keep  up  with  him.  Once  he  turned 
to  me,  and  said, 

"What  is  he  doing?"     And  when  I  answered 
125 


126  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

"He  is  working  at  his  trade,"  his  eyes  darkened 
and  he  muttered, 

"He  works  at  his  trade  when  Israel  is  perishing." 
He  did  not  speak  again,  but  went  forward  faster 
than  before. 

When  we  reached  Capernaum  Judas  turned 
aside  for  no  one.  Though  several  men  spoke  to 
him  he  paid  no  heed  to  their  greetings,  but  made 
straight  for  the  house  of  Jesus.  And  behold,  when 
we  reached  it,  the  courtyard  was  empty  and  the 
space  under  the  palms  where  the  ox-yokes  were 
stacked  was  vacant.  The  door  of  the  house  was 
shut  and  there  was  no  one  about.  But  Judas, 
after  a  glance  or  two  around  like  a  dog  seeking 
scent,  made  for  the  beach,  and  here  we  found 
Jesus  with  three  or  four  other  men.  The  men, 
bent  on  their  daily  tasks,  were  about  to  launch  a 
boat  when  Judas,  travel-worn  and  thin,  his  beard 
and  every  line  of  his  weary  face  heavy  with  dust, 
burst  into  their  peace.  They  stopped  their  work 
and  stared  at  him  as  if  something  in  his  aspect 
struck  fear  into  them. 

But  Jesus  seeing  him,  spoke, 

"You  have  just  returned?  You  look  very 
tired." 

"I  have  somewhat  to  say  to  you,"  Judas  an 
swered. 

"When  did  you  last  eat?"  Jesus  asked  him,  but 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  127 

Judas  brushed  the  question  aside,  his  mind  so  set 
on  his  purpose  that  he  was  regardless  of  his  bod 
ily  weariness. 

"I  do  not  remember.  This  morning.  What  mat 
ter!"  he  said.  "Where  can  we  talk?" 

"I  was  going  to  the  other  side  of  the  lake.  Come 
apart  with  me  and  rest  awhile,"  said  Jesus,  and 
he  put  his  shoulder  to  the  gunnel  of  the  boat,  and 
I  helping,  we  pushed  her  off.  As  she  took  the 
water  I  jumped  in  to  steady  her,  and  Judas  fol 
lowed.  The  other  men  would  have  clambered  in, 
too,  but  Jesus  put  them  aside,  saying  Judas  would 
speak  with  him  alone,  and  so  they  gave  it  up,  and 
when  Jesus  had  got  in,  helped  to  push  us  off  with 
oars.  Whether  it  was  that  they  thought  I  was 
joined  with  Judas  on  his  business,  or  whether  they 
were  used  to  seeing  me  with  Jesus  I  know  not,  but 
they  made  no  remark  on  my  presence,  and,  in 
deed,  the  boat  so  quickly  slid  into  deep  water 
that  I  could  not  have  got  out  of  it  if  I  would 
without  leaving  her  guideless.  So  it  came  about 
that  I  heard  what  Judas  had  to  say. 

The  wind  was  fresh,  and  Jesus  and  I  set  the 
sail.  Judas  did  not  help,  but  sat  in  the  stern  silent 
and  absorbed  while  the  boat  raced  across  the  blue 
lake  to  the  other  side.  Here  we  landed,  and  tied 
the  painter  to  a  great  stone.  Jesus  brought  bread 
and  dates  from  the  boat,  and  we  climbed  to  the 


128  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

wide  grassy  plain  above,  but  Judas  would  not  eat. 

"Later,"  he  said,  and,  for  a  time,  he  lay  face 
downwards  on  the  bleached  grass  as  if  he  thought 
of  what  he  had  to  speak.  Then  suddenly  he  sat 
upright,  and  turned  his  haggard  face  to  Jesus. 

"Master,"  he  said,  "I  have  preached  the  king 
dom  as  you  told  me.  Throughout  all  Galilee  I 
have  found  the  same  misery  and  slavery.  Every 
where  the  hold  of  the  Romans  is  tightening.  Our 
statesmen  do  not  care.  They  will  never  win  us 
back  our  freedom.  In  a  short  time  it  will  be  too 
late." 

His  voice  broke,  and  he  covered  his  eyes  with 
his  hands.  At  the  sight  of  his  woe  a  lump  came 
into  my  throat,  and  I  turned  away  my  head,  but 
the  tranquillity  that  lay  in  the  eyes  of  Jesus  did 
not  waver.  He  sat  patient,  helping  Judas  with 
silence  till  he  should  recover  himself. 

In  a  moment  Judas  had  mastered  himself.  He 
uncovered  his  eyes,  and  looked  Jesus  straight  in 
the  face. 

"When  I  asked  you  before,  you  turned  a  deaf 
ear  to  me.  But  now  I  have  seen  the  misery  of  the 
people,  their  oppression  and  starvation.  Will  you 
not  listen?  You  alone  can  free  them.  You  have 
but  to  lift  your  hand,  and  thousands  will  flock  to 
you.  Never  has  there  been  such  a  ferment.  The 
people  will  follow  you  anywhere,  even  to  death." 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  129 

His  voice  was  hoarse  with  passion,  and  he 
pleaded  as  a  man  pleads  for  what  he  desires  most 
upon  earth. 

"I  cannot  do  it  myself,"  he  said.  "The  people 
will  not  follow  me.  I  lack  something.  I  have  not 
the  power  to  win  men's  hearts  as  you  have,  Master. 
And  you  care  for  them.  You  have  seen  their  mis 
ery.  Will  you  not  help*?  Restore  to  us  our  na 
tion." 

A  great  compassion  shone  in  the  eyes  of  Jesus, 
and  there  was  reverence  in  his  voice  as  he  answered, 

"Judas,  it  is  not  the  way.  Listen.  Once  before 
this  temptation  came  upon  me.  When  the  mes 
sage  first  came  to  me,  when  I  looked  round  on  the 
world  and  saw  men  as  they  are,  and  God  told  me 
to  tell  them  what  they  might  be,  then  I  was  driven 
into  the  wilderness,  and  there  I  fought  with  devils. 
God  gives  the  message.  It  is  for  the  Messenger 
to  learn  how  to  deliver  it.  Your  question  was  be 
fore  me,  Judas,  and  to  find  an  answer  I  wrestled 
with  the  powers  of  evil.  All  the  kingdoms  of  this 
world  and  their  splendour  seemed  to  pass  before 
me,  and  a  voice  within  me  said,  'These  will  all  ac 
knowledge  your  kingdom,  and  the  rule  of  the  God 
who  sent  you.  But  you  must  first  unite  the  people 
and  drive  out  those  who  stop  them  from  living  as 
God  would  have  them  live.  Then  will  God  have 
the  kingdom,  the  power,  and  the  glory.'  In  my 


130  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

soul  I  pondered,  and  then  I  saw  the  meaning  of  the 
devil  that  spoke  within  me,  and  I  said,  'Oh,  Satan, 
if  I  by  your  evil  help  drive  out  evil,  then  will  you, 
not  God,  be  Ruler.  I  will  not  fall  down  and  wor 
ship  you.  For  if  I  by  force  drive  out  force,  will 
not  the  strong  reign?  And  if  I  by  cruelty  drive  out 
cruelty,  will  not  the  cruel  be  master?'  I  tell  you, 
No,  Judas,  I  will  never  hand  this  world  over  to  the 
Master  of  cruelty  and  force.  It  is  not  the  way." 

He  ceased  speaking.  Judas  did  not  answer.  He 
sat  silent,  shaken,  but  not  convinced;  his  body 
crouched  together,  and  in  his  stress  he  gnawed  his 
knuckles.  Suddenly  he  looked  up  from  beneath 
his  pent  brows,  and  said, 

"Under  our  present  rule  the  people  starve.  It 
is  in  your  power  to  give  them  liberty.  If  you  will 
not  have  them  fight  for  that  high  ideal,  will  you 
lead,  that  they  may  have  bread?" 

Jesus  put  the  taunt  aside,  and  answered  gently, 

"That  temptation,  too,  has  been  before  me.  God 
has  given  me  power,  but  if  I  use  my  power  to  give 
bread  only  I  should  be  a  traitor.  Man  does  not 
live  by  bread  alone,  but  by  the  breath  of  God  with 
in  him.  If  God  gather  to  himself  his  spirit  and  his 
breath,  all  flesh  would  perish  and  man  turn  into 
dust.  No,  Judas;  neither  is  that  the  way.  Men 
must  seek  first  the  kingdom  of  God  and  his  right- 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  131 

eousness,  and  all  these  things  will  be  added  to 
them." 

Judas  was  not  vanquished.  His  head  drooped 
on  his  chest,  and  with  one  hand  he  plucked  rest 
lessly  at  the  tufts  of  grass  beside  him  and,  unsee 
ing,  flung  them  from  him.  After  a  moment  he 
sighed  and  glanced  at  Jesus,  and  there  was  craft 
in  his  eye. 

"God  guards  his  servants,"  he  said.  "It  is  nat 
ural  to  shrink  from  sacrifice  that  seems  too  great 
to  bear.  But  God  would  preserve  his  Messenger. 
Your  power  is  great.  You  could  escape." 

Jesus  met  his  look,  and  in  his  own  there  was 
so  much  of  sadness  and  of  pity  that  the  cunning 
glint  died  out  of  the  eyes  of  Judas. 

"Judas,"  he  said.  "What  I  have  taught  shall  I 
not  stand  by?  God  will  not  alter  his  laws  to  save 
even  the  most  beloved  servant.  What  a  man  sows 
that  shall  he  also  reap.  If  I,  using  my  powers  care 
lessly,  trust  to  God  to  make  a  success  of  my  failure, 
I  am  again  in  the  power  of  the  Devil.  Thou  shalt 
not  tempt  the  Lord  thy  God." 

There  was  silence.  Judas  frowned  as  if  his 
mind  was  working  hard,  and  suddenly,  as  if  he 
abandoned  his  purpose,  he  rose  to  his  feet. 

"Master,"  he  said,  "if  you  will  not  lead  in  Gali 
lee,  will  you  go  to  Jerusalem?" 

Jesus  replied, 


132  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

"But,  Judas,  I  have  been  to  Jerusalem.  Was  it 
not  in  Jerusalem  that  I  first  met  you*?" 

"You  have  never  preached  the  kingdom  in  Jeru 
salem,"  said  Judas,  and  the  lines  of  his  face 
twitched  and  then  hardened  as  if  he  sought  to  hide 
his  thought.  Jesus,  still  seated  on  the  grass, 
searched  his  face,  and  Judas,  bracing  himself,  met 
his  eyes.  A  long  look  passed  between  the  two, 
and  then  Jesus,  too,  rose  to  his  feet  and  said, 

"I  will  go  to  Jerusalem." 

Judas  stared  at  him. 

"You  will  go  to  Jerusalem1?"  he  asked,  as  if 
amazed  at  his  own  success. 

"I  will  go  to  Jerusalem,"  Jesus  repeated,  and 
half  to  himself  he  added,  "It  is  not  meet  that  a 
Prophet  should  die  out  of  Jerusalem." 

Judas  caught  the  words  and  answered  hastily, 

"You  will  not  die.  You  will  go  to  a  triumph" ; 
and,  suddenly,  as  if  seized  with  suspicion,  he  cried, 

"You  mean  it*?  You  have  promised1?  You 
will  not  fail  me?" 

Jesus  stooped  and  gathered  up  the  bread  and 
dates  which  Judas  had  rejected.  Then  he  turned 
and  said, 

"I  will  never  fail  you,  Judas." 

And  with  that  the  talk  ended. 


XII 

THE  people  of  my  villages  began  their  plough 
ing  and  sowing  about  the  time  of  the  Feast 
of  Tabernacles,  and  there  was  other  business  too 
that  called  me  to  the  high  lands  of  Galilee,  so  that 
I  could  not  go  to  Jerusalem  that  autumn.  I  lin 
gered  as  late  as  I  could  in  Capernaum  to  be  with 
Jesus,  and  the  last  teaching  I  ever  heard  from  his 
lips,  though  then  I  knew  it  not,  was  his  talk  with 
Peter  of  the  seven  times  forgiveness. 

Now  Peter  and  the  others  had  all  come  back 
from  their  preaching  tour,  with  their  heads  swollen 
with  success.  Their  talk  was  still  of  the  crowds 
that  had  flocked  to  hear  them,  and  of  how  men 
never  ceased  to  debate  of  the  new  teaching.  Often, 
too,  I  heard  them  dispute  as  to  who  should  be 
greatest  in  the  Kingdom.  Jesus  listened  to  their 
talk,  as  he  listened  to  every  one,  with  courtesy  and 
intently,  his  lips  lightly  closed  and  his  understand 
ing  eyes  fixed  on  the  speaker's  face  as  if  he  read 
his  soul.  I  noticed  that  sometimes  as  he  listened 
a  shadow  seemed  to  hang  over  him  as  if  he  doubted 
himself  and  even  his  message.  Once  or  twice  I 

133 


134  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

noticed,  too,  that  Peter  would  begin  his  boasts, 
and  then  suddenly,  though  Jesus  spoke  no  word 
to  him,  he  would  cease.  Silence  would  fall  upon 
him,  and  he  would  look  uneasily  at  Jesus  as  if  he 
questioned  his  own  motives  and  wanted  reassur 
ing.  There  were  two  men  in  Peter,  as  in  every  one 
of  us,  and  the  fight  for  self-mastery  had  begun  in 
his  soul.  Peter  was  learning  to  know  himself,  and 
from  each  combat  his  spirit,  even  if  beaten,  rose 
again  to  renew  the  battle. 

It  was  on  a  day  when  I  had  seen  this  new  un 
easiness  in  Peter  that  in  the  evening  Jesus  went 
away  up  into  the  mountains,  and  took  with  him 
Peter  and  James  and  John.  They  did  not  return 
until  the  next  day,  and  in  the  meantime  much  had 
happened.  For  early  in  the  morning  there  came  a 
man  seeking  Jesus,  and  bringing  with  him  his  son, 
who,  he  said,  was  possessed  by  a  devil.  However 
that  might  be,  the  boy  was  very  ill.  Even  as  his 
father  asked  for  Jesus,  he  broke  away  and  ran  from 
him,  grinding  his  teeth.  The  father,  in  despair, 
calling  to  us  for  help  ran  after  him,  but  when  at 
the  outskirts  of  the  town  he  caught  him,  the  boy 
dashed  himself  to  the  ground  and  wallowed  there, 
foaming  at  the  mouth.  His  father  held  him  down, 
lamenting  aloud  that  Jesus  was  not  there  to  cure 
him.  People  were  hastening  from  all  sides  to  see 
what  had  happened,  and  some  of  the  disciples  came 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  135 

running  too  with  the  rest  of  the  crowd.     Seeing 

°  o 

these,  a  woman  cried  out  that  they  would  help. 

"They  can  cast  out  devils  even  as  Jesus  does. 
Ask  them.  They  will  heal  your  son,"  she  said  to 
the  man. 

But  the  man,  hearing  her,  was  angry,  and  said 
bitterly, 

"I  asked  them  before,  and  they  tried,  but  could 
do  nothing.  What  use  are  they?  They  are  only 
cheats,  like  all  magicians." 

The  disciples  were  affronted  when  they  heard 
him  say  this,  and  said  they  were  not  to  blame. 
They  had  done  their  best. 

"We  did  what  we  could,"  one  cried.  "But  even 
Peter,  who  shaped  well  to  be  a  caster-out  of  devils, 
failed  with  your  son." 

Others  said  that  the  boy  had  seventy  devils  in 
him,  and  that  it  was  not  to  be  expected  they  could 
all  be  cast  out.  At  this  there  arose  a  great  dispute, 
and  some  teachers  of  the  law  began  to  argue  with 
the  man  and  with  the  disciples  as  to  whose  was 
the  fault,  and  how  many  devils  could  inhabit  a 
man.  They  all  talked  at  once,  and  the  noise  was 
deafening.  The  poor  father,  kneeling  beside  his 
son,  had  much  ado  to  keep  the  crowd  from  press 
ing  on  him,  and  kept  calling  aloud  for  more  room. 
•  Of  a  sudden  some  one  cried  out  that  Jesus  had 
come,  and  the  crowd  broke  up  and  ran  to  see.  In 


136  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

the  space  they  left  I  saw  Jesus  coming  towards  us, 
followed  by  Peter  and  James  and  John. 

At  the  sight  of  him  a  lull  fell  on  the  crowd. 
For  the  shadow  had  fallen  from  him,  and  a  great 
peace  shone  in  his  eyes.  Hope  was  renewed  within 
him,  and  again,  as  on  the  day  when  I  first  saw  him, 
tranquillity  lay  upon  him,  the  tranquillity  of  one 
who  rests  in  a  surety  greater  than  other  men  know. 

"What  are  you  all  arguing  about  amongst  your 
selves4?"  Jesus  asked  as  the  man  came  up  to  him 
and  greeted  him. 

"Teacher,"  answered  the  man.  "I  brought  my 
son  to  see  you,  as  he  has  a  devil,  and  is  pining 
away.  I  asked  your  disciples  to  drive  out  the 
spirit,  but  they  failed." 

Jesus  turned  to  the  disciples: 

"Oh  !  faithless  generation,"  he  said.  "How  long 
must  I  teach  you?  How  long  must  I  have  patience 
with  you  ?  Bring  the  boy  to  me." 

A  dozen  people  ran  to  lift  the  boy,  but  when 
they  touched  him  he  fell  into  convulsions,  and 
again  rolled  on  the  ground  foaming  at  the  mouth. 

"How  long  has  he  been  like  this*?"  Jesus  asked 
the  father. 

"Since  he  was  a  child,"  the  man  answered. 
"And  often  he  falls  into  the  fire  or  into  water, 
and  tries  to  kill  himself.  If  you  can  possibly  heal 
him,  have  pity  and  help  us." 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  137 

"Why  do  you  say  possibly?  Everything  is  pos 
sible  to  one  who  has  faith,"  Jesus  replied,  and  he 
spoke  with  so  much  kindness  and  certainty  that 
the  man  cried  out  with  tears,  "Lord,  I  have  faith. 
Help  thou  my  lack  of  it!" 

So  Jesus  healed  the  lad,  and  when  the  devil, 
if  it  was  a  devil,  had  gone  away,  the  convulsions 
ceased,  and  the  boy  lay  on  the  ground  like  a 
corpse,  so  that  many  people  looking  at  him  shook 
their  heads  and  said,  "He  is  dead."  But  Jesus 
took  his  hand,  and  raised  him  up  and  gave  him 
back  to  his  father;  and  then  he  went  away  to  his 
house,  and  the  disciples  followed. 

When  we  reached  the  house  and  went  in,  the 
disciples  pressed  round  Jesus  and  asked  eagerly, 

"Why  could  we  not  cast  out  the  devil?" 

"This  power  comes  only  by  prayer  and  fasting," 
said  Jesus.  "Every  sacrifice  is  salted  by  salt.  You 
are  the  salt  of  the  earth,  but  if  the  salt  has  lost 
its  saltness,  how  can  it  be  salted  again?  If  it  can 
not,  it  is  fit  neither  for  the  land  nor  for  the  dung 
hill,  but  is  thrown  away  and  trodden  underfoot. 
It  is  only  by  fire  that  it  can  be  salted  again.  Have 
salt  therefore  in  yourselves,  and  peace  with  one 
another.  Let  him  that  has  ears  to  hear  with,  hear." 

Now  Peter  was  wroth  because  some  one  had 
told  him  what  had  been  said  of  his  failure,  and 


138  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

glowering,  he  answered  the  rebuke  that  he  felt  in 
the  words  of  Jesus. 

"Say  what  you  like  about  salt,  but  it  was  the 
man  who  was  at  fault.  He  had  no  faith.  One 
cannot  help  such  people.  There  was  something 
about  him,  I  know  not  what,  but  I  did  not  trust 
him." 

He  spoke  out  of  the  soreness  of  his  heart,  and 
Jesus  answered  quickly,  and  there  was  much  ten-1 
derness  and  some  mockery  in  his  voice, 

"Be  careful,  Peter,  for  in  every  idle  word  men 
speak  they  give  an  account  of  themselves." 

But  Peter,  still  gloomy,  averted  his  face  like 
a  proud  dog  after  punishment,  and  answered, 

"My  words  are  not  idle.    I  do  well  to  be  angry." 

"If  you  cherish  anger  against  your  brother  you 
cannot  be  friends  with  God,"  said  Jesus.  "Anger 
is  an  evil  demon.  If  your  brother  has  acted 
wrongly  to  you,  you  must  go  to  him  alone  and  tell 
him  his  fault.  If  he  listens  you  have  gained  your 
brother.  If  you  have  acted  wrongly  to  him  you 
must  seek  his  forgiveness  before  you  can  be  friends 
with  God.  How  can  you  expect  God  to  forgive 
you  your  sins  against  him  if  you  do  not  forgive 
your  brother  when  he  wrongs  you*?" 

Peter,  still  obstinate,  was  silent,  and  Jesus  said, 

"Listen,  Peter.  The  kingdom  of  heaven  may 
be  compared  to  a  certain  king  who  began  to  have 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  139 

a  settlement  of  accounts  with  his  officials.  And 
one  was  brought  before  him  who  owed  ten  thou 
sand  pounds,  which  he  was  unable  to  pay.  So  the 
king  commanded  that  the  man  and  his  wife  and 
his  children  and  everything  that  he  had  should 
be  sold,  that  the  price  might  go  towards  the  pay 
ment  of  the  debt. 

"When  he  heard  the  sentence  the  man  was  hor 
rified,  and  threw  himself  on  the  ground  before 
the  king  and  wept,  crying  out,  'Only  have  patience 
and  I  will  pay  you  all.'  And  the  king  was  moved 
with  sorrow  at  the  pain  of  his  servant,  and  he 
set  him  free  and  forgave  him  the  debt.  But  that 
same  man  on  going  out  from  the  court  met  a 
fellow  servant  who  owed  him  one  hundred  shill 
ings,  and  he  took  him  by  the  throat  and  nearly 
strangled  him,  saying, 

"  'Pay  me  what  you  owe  me.' 

"And  his  fellow-servant  threw  himself  on  the 
ground  before  him,  crying  out: 

"  'Only  have  patience  and  I  will  pay  you  all.' 

"But  he  would  not,  but  put  him  in  prison  till 
he  should  pay. 

"When  the  other  servants  saw  what  had  hap 
pened  they  were  greatly  distressed,  and  went  to 
the  king  and  laid  the  whole  matter  before  him. 
Then  the  king  called  that  wicked  servant  again 
before  him^  and  said  to  him, 


140  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

"  'I  forgave  you  all  your  debt  when  you  begged 
for  mercy.  Ought  you  not  to  have  had  compas 
sion  on  your  fellow-servant  when  he,  too,  begged 
for  mercy*?  Even  as  I  had  pity  on  you  ought  you 
not  to  have  pitied  him1?  Now  you  will  be  handed 
over  to  the  torturers  till  you  have  paid  the  whole 
of  your  debt.' 

"And  he  cast  him  into  prison.  So  also  God 
who  has  pity  on  you  will  do,  if  you  do  not  each 
one  of  you  forgive  your  own  brother  from  your 
heart." 

When  Jesus  had  finished  Peter  sat  silent  for  a 
few  moments.  Suddenly  he  turned  his  face,  and 
said  impulsively, 

"How  often  am  I  to  forgive  my  brother  when 
he  sins  against  me1?  As  many  as  seven  times'?" 

"Seven  times!"  Jesus  answered.  "No!  I  did 
not  say  seven  times,  but  seventy  times  seven." 

"But,  master,  if  I  forgive  him  he  will  take  ad 
vantage  of  me  again." 

Jesus  nodded  in  agreement. 

"He  may." 

"Must  I  then  go  on  forgiving  and  forgiving, 
and  each  time  be  made  a  fool  of1?"  Peter  ques 
tioned,  hotly;  and  Jesus  answered,  and  there  was 
no  mockery  now  in  his  voice,  but  only  tenderness, 

"If  your  enemy  hunger,  give  him  bread  to  eat. 
If  he  thirst,  give  him  water.  If  he  would  take 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  141 

your  cloak,  give  him  your  coat  also.  If  you  meet 
his  ox  or  his  ass  going  astray,  bring  it  back  to 
him.  If  he  conscript  you  to  carry  his  goods  one 
mile,  carry  them  for  two.  It  is  in  this  way  that 
you  become  children  of  your  father  in  Heaven. 
Does  he  not  daily  cause  his  sun  to  rise  on  the 
good  and  the  bad*?" 

Peter  thought  for  a  moment,  and  then  he  cried 
out: 

"Master,  give  us  faith." 

And  Jesus  answered, 

"Men  are  ready  to  move  mountains  by  faith, 
and  yet  are  not  willing  to  enter  into  the  kingdom 
by  forgiving  one  another.  Forgiveness  is  faith. 
Therefore,  when  you  stand  up  to  pray,  forgive 
any  grievance  you  have  against  any  one  and  God 
will  grant  you  what  you  ask." 

"But  God  does  not  always  answer1?"  one  ques 
tioned. 

"Then  entreat  him  again  and  again.  Pray  al 
ways,  anc  never  despair.  Ask,  and  it  shall  be 
given  you.  Ask  great  things,  and  little  things 
shall  be  added  to  you.  Ask  heavenly  things,  and 
earthly  things  will  be  added.  Seek,  and  you  shall 
find.  Knock,  and  a  door  will  be  opened  before  you. 
For  God  will  give  you  the  spirit  of  truth  to  guide 
you  to  all  truth.  I  tell  you  all  manner  of  sin 
shall  be  forgiven  unto  men,  but  a  refusal  to  listen 


142  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

for  this  voice  of  God  within  you  shall  not  be  for 
given." 

"Master,  teach  us  to  pray,"  said  one  of  the 
disciples. 

And  Jesus  answered, 

"When  you  pray  let  the  communion  be  be 
tween  God  and  yourself  alone.  Do  not  stand 
where  you  can  be  seen  of  men,  but  go  away  into 
your  own  room  and  shut  the  door  and  pray  there 
to  your  father  who  dwells  in  secret,  and  your 
father  who  knows  all  that  is  secret  will  enlighten 
you.  When  you  pray  say  'Father,  may  thy  name 
be  kept  holy.  Let  thy  kingdom  come.  Teach  us 
to  do  thy  will  on  earth  as  it  is  done  in  heaven. 
Give  us  each  day  the  bread  that  we  shall  need. 
And  forgive  us  our  sins,  helping  us  to  forgive 
those  who  sin  against  us.  And  take  us  not  into 
trials,  but  deliver  us  from  evil.'  ' 

It  was  with  this  talk  in  my  head  that  I  went 
to  my  ploughing. 


XIII 

MY  days  went  swifter  than  a  post  that  win 
ter,  and  I  heard  nothing  of  the  doings  in 
Jerusalem  nor  did  I  see  Jesus.  In  South  Galilee 
gossip  ran  along  every  road,  but  my  villages  in 
the  north  were  cut  off  from  this  traffic;  and 
though  the  talk  in  them  still  raged  about  the 
teaching,  no  man  knew  what  fate  the  doctrine  had 
met  in  Judea. 

It  was  Nicodemus  who  first  told  me  that  Jesus 
was  in  danger.  By  this  time  spring  was  nearly 
here  again,  and  I  had  sent  to  Judea  to  ask  for 
some  monies  that  I  needed.  Now  Nicodemus  was 
an  old  man,  and  when  the  mule  train  came  in  and 
I  saw  him  riding  at  its  head,  I  was  astonished  that 
he  should  have  come  himself  when  he  might  as 
easily  have  sent  a  steward.  But  when  he  had 
alighted  from  his  mule  and,  after  delivering  to 
me  the  monies,  had  washed  and  refreshed  himself 
and  we  were  alone  in  the  room,  he  said, 

"I  have  grave  news  for  you.  I  have  come 
straight  from  Jerusalem,  where  your  friend  Jesus 
has  been  teaching  all  winter.  His  fame  has 
spread  through  all  Judea.  He  has  gone  back  to 

143 


144  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

Capernaum  now,  and  I  have  come  to  warn  you 
that  if  he  returns  to  Jerusalem  for  the  Passover 
the  Priests  and  Council  will  have  his  life." 

"Why,  what  has  he  done4?"  I  cried. 

"The  Council  thinks  he  is  dangerous,"  an 
swered  Nicodemus.  "There  is  great  division 
amongst  the  people,  and  as  his  followers  grow, 
so  do  his  opponents.  There  is  no  open  discussion 
in  Jerusalem  because  of  the  authorities,  but  the 
city  is  full  of  whispers,  and  rumours  fly  about 
in  secret.  Some  say  he  is  a  good  man,  while 
others  insist  he  is  leading  the  people  astray.  Many 
say  that  he  is  the  Prophet  spoken  of  by  David,  and 
others  are  sure  that  he  is  the  Messiah.  Some 
people  argue  that  he  cannot  be  the  Messiah  as  he 
comes  from  Galilee,  and  the  Scriptures  say  the 
Messiah  must  come  from  Bethlehem,  David's  vil 
lage,  and  be  of  David's  race.  It  is  said  that  men 
went  and  asked  Jesus  himself  about  this  last> 
and  he  answered  that  as  David  in  the  Psalms 
called  the  Messiah  Lord,  how  could  it  be  that  the 
Messiah  was  David's  son4?  But  even  with  this 
from  Jesus,  many  people  look  to  see  in  him  the 
fulfilment  of  prophecy,  and  the  tumult  grows. 
The  Rulers  are  afraid.  They  have  no  wish  to 
see  the  Kingdom  of  God  established  on  earth.  The 
good  news  that  Jesus  preaches  is  not  good  to  those 
who  bear  rule." 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  145 

"It  would  be,"  I  said,  "if  they  would  only 
forgo  their  ordering  of  other  men  and  be  content 
to  serve." 

Nicodemus  looked  at  me  out  of  his  wise  old 
eyes. 

"The  last  thing  men  will  forgo  is  that,"  he 
said.  "Jesus  is  too  clear-sighted  not  to  know  the 
risks,  that  lie  in  such  teaching.  They  will  kill 
him  for  that  alone." 

"They  cannot  kill  him  for  his  teaching  of  the 
Kingdom,"  I  said. 

Nicodemus  shook  his  head. 

"They  will  find  an  excuse." 

"They  cannot,"  I  cried. 

"A  way  will  be  found.  Do  I  not  know?  Am 
I  not  also  a  Ruler  of  Israel? .  But  let  me  tell  you 
all,  and  you  can  judge  for  yourself." 

"Tell  on,"  I  answered,  and  sat  silent  to  listen. 

"The  matter  has  not  yet  come  before  the  Coun 
cil  as  a  whole,  but  I  hear  others  of  the  Seventy 
talk,  and  so  I  know.  Some  of  the  Rulers  have 
already  tried  to  embroil  Jesus  with  the  Romans. 
If  they  could  prove  an  offence  against  the  Im 
perial  law,  then  the  Romans  would  deal  with 
him,  and  the  blame  of  the  people  would  fall  upon 
them.  So  they  have  sought  to  show  that  the  teach 
ing  of  Jesus  is  the  same  as  that  taught  by  Judas 
of  Gaulonite.  You  are  too  young  to  remember 


146  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

the  rebellion  led  by  this  Judas,  but  Jesus  must 
have  heard  of  it.  It  was  when  the  Romans  first 
put  a  tax  on  us,  in  the  days  of  the  Procurator  Co- 
ponius.  Our  people  took  this  taxation  heinously 
until  the  High  Priest  persuaded  them  to  cease 
opposing  it.  But  this  Judas  never  ceased  his 
opposition,  proclaiming  that  the  taxation  was  the 
beginning  of  slavery,  and  that  the  Jews  were  cow 
ards  if  they  endured  to  pay  a  tax  to  the  Romans, 
seeing  that  God  was  our  only  Ruler.  I  mind  me 
well  of  the  misfortunes  that  came  of  all  this.  One 
violent  rising  after  another,  robberies  and  murders 
and  famine.  But  the  Romans  prevailed." 

"I  have  heard  my  father  speak  of  it  when  he 
was  alive,"  I  said. 

"All  men  spoke  of  it,"  said  Nicodemus.  "This 
Judas  inflamed  our  nation  to  an  extraordinary  de 
gree.  Even  now  his  followers  are  not  all  dead. 
But  they  keep  quiet.  If  they  raised  a  voice,  the 
Romans  would  not  let  them  live  a  day.  They 
will  as  quickly  slay  Jesus,  if  they  have  proof  that 
his  doctrine  is  that  of  the  Gaulonite.  Now  I  will 
show  you  the  full  craft  of  the  Priests  and  Rulers. 
They  sent  men  to  Jesus  to  seek  out  such  evidence. 
These  men  spoke  fair  to  him  and  pretended  to  be 
in  sympathy  with  his  teaching.  They  said,  'We 
know  you  teach  God's  way  truly  and  that  you 
are  no  respecter  of  the  masks  of  men,  but  see 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  147 

straight  through  all  outward  shows  to  the  inner 
man.'  When  they  had  thus  hinted  that  Jesus  had 
the  like  attachment  to  liberty  that  Judas  preached, 
they  said,  'Now,  tell  us  honestly,  are  we  right  in 
paying  taxes  to  Caesar  or  no?" 

"It  was  a  vile  trick,"  I  said. 

"Jesus  was  not  taken  in  by  it,"  said  Nicodemus.' 
"He  asked  them  to  show  him  a  denarius,  and  the 
men,  somewhat  wondering,  handed  him  the  coin. 
'Whose  head  and  inscription  is  this4?'  he  said,  and 
the  men  answered,  'Cesar's.'  'Then  pay  to  Csesar 
what  belongs  to  Csesar  and  to  God  what  belongs 
to  God,'  said  Jesus." 

"He  is  too  clever  to  be  caught,"  I  said,  and 
Nicodemus  answered, 

"Yes.  But  that  does  not  endear  him  to  the 
Priests  and  Council." 

"I  hate  them  for  their  enmity,"  I  cried  with 
passion,  but  Nicodemus  said, 

"Your  friend  would  not  have  you  feel  thus. 
How  can  you  help  God  to  undo  the  evil  such 
men  do  if  you  are  so  blinded  by  hate  that  you 
cannot  see  what  was  in  their  minds  when  they 
did  it*?  Look  you,  I  am  old  and  have  seen  much 
of  life,  but  I  try  to  put  myself  in  the  place  of 
these  men  and  know  what  they  feel.  Cannot  you 
do  likewise?" 

I  was  abashed  and  said, 


148  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

"Jesus  rebuked  them.     I  have  seen  his  anger." 

"When  Jesus  rebuked  them  was  it  not  because 
they  refused  to  show  kindness1?  Has  Jesus  ever 
preached  any  but  one  way  into  the  Kingdom*? 
Your  friend  is  gentle  and  great  and  humble.  I 
am  not  as  he,"  said  Nicodemus.  "I  do  not  say 
you  should  love  the  Pharisees,  but  I  ask  you  to 
show  understanding  of  them.  If  they  kill  Jesus 
it  will  be  from  the  best  of  motives." 

"And  not  because  they  hate  him1?"  I  cried,  un 
believing. 

Nicodemus  smiled  sadly. 

"Think  you  there  is  room  in  the  soul  of  Caiaphas 
for  so  wild  a  passion  as  hate1?  His  heart  is  cold. 
There  is  no  fire  within  him.  How  can  such  a  one 
understand  Jesus'?  He  can  but  think  him  a  fool." 

"No  man  ever  looked  in  the  face  of  Jesus  and 
thought  him  a  fool,"  I  cried. 

"To  Caiaphas  a  clever  man  preaching  folly 
is  more  dangerous  than  a  fool.  As  you  live  your 
life,  you  judge  your  neighbours.  How  can  these 
men,  whose  thoughts  are  only  of  bearing  rule 
upon  earth,  judge  of  Jesus,  whose  message  is  to 
mind  men  of  the  spirit4?  There  are  limits  to 
what  a  man  may  hold  in  his  thoughts,  and  theirs 
are  only  of  this  world." 

"It  cannot  be  that  Jesus  will  lose  his  life  be 
cause  of  a  misunderstanding*?"  I  said. 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  149 

"No  ruler  will  admit  that  he  does  not  under 
stand,"  answered  Nicodemus.  "And  indeed,  if 
God's  Kingdom  were  here  there  would  be  much 
change.  Jesus  himself  says  the  last  will  be  first 
and  the  first  last.  The  Rulers  do  not  want  change. 
They  are  satisfied  with  the  power  they  hold  under 
the  Romans.  They  think  it  their  duty  to  keep 
our  religion  and  customs  as  they  were  handed 
down  to  us.  Jesus  does  not  regard  matters  of 
the  law  as  the  Rulers  do.  He  preaches  more  lib 
erty  than  our  customs  have  allowed.  He  knows 
that  if  you  give  a  man  the  right  to  choose  for 
himself,  you  give  him  the  right  to  make  mistakes, 
but  he  has  a  boundless  faith  that  God  will  teach 
if  men  but  listen.  The  Priests  have  not  this  faith. 
They  say  he  is  upsetting  all  law  and  order.  Take 
the  question  of  the  Sabbath.  The  Priests  say  that 
Jesus  preaches  against  the  Sabbath,  and  that,  if 
he  destroys  the  Sabbath,  the  Romans  will  force 
conscription  into  their  armies  upon  us.  They  can 
not  train  men  who  keep  the  seventh  day  as  strictly 
as  do  the  Jews.  Even  the  Roman  discipline  would 
be  broken  by  that  custom.  It  is  only  the  strict 
observance  of  the  Sabbath  that  has  hitherto  kept 
us  from  serving." 

Nicodemus  was  much  perturbed,  and  my  anx 
iety  grew  as  I  listened. 

"That  is  the  danger  for  Jesus,"  he  went  on. 


150  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

"He  will  be  killed  by  men  who  believe  in  their 
own  good  intentions.  The  Rulers  are  sure  they  do 
the  will  of  God.  They  think  now,  and  they  are 
sincere — remember  I  am  one  of  them  and  come 
straight  from  Jerusalem — that  if  Jesus  goes  on 
preaching  there  will  be  a  tumult  in  Galilee.  The 
Galileans  have  always  been  turbulent.  They  may 
try  to  establish  the  Kingdom  by  throwing  off  the 
Roman  rule.  If  there  is  a  rising,  whatever  its 
result,  the  Priests  and  Rulers  will  lose.  If  Jesus 
wins,  he  is  no  friend  to  their  power  and  they  will 
go.  If  the  Romans  win,  then  also  our  Rulers 
must  lose,  for  the  Romans  will  blame  them  for 
the  rising  and  will  take  away  the  powers  of  the 
Council." 

"But  it  is  not  in  the  heart  of  Jesus  to  lead  a 
rebellion,"  I  said. 

"It  is  in  the  heart  of  some  of  his  disciples," 
said  Nicodemus.  "If  the  Priests  do  not  under 
stand  the  teaching,  neither  do  the  disciples.  Judas 
Iscariot  has  done  him  much  harm.  It  is  in  my 
mind  that  he  tries,  to  make  a  tool  of  Jesus.  I  do 
not  trust  him." 

"He  has  tried,  but  Jesus  would  not  listen,"  I 
said. 

"He  will  try  to  force  his  hand,"  said  Nico 
demus.  "Judas  is  blinded  by  hate  of  the  Romans. 
From  what  I  have  seen  of  Jesus  he  will  not  be 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  151 

able  to  sway  his  will.  But  if  Judas  joined  Jesus, 
hoping  for  the  deliverance  of  our  nation,  what 
will  he  do  when  he  learns  that  Jesus  does  not  mean 
rebellion?  Judas  is  as  bitter  at  heart  as  a  camel. 
He  is  a  dangerous  man  to  disappoint." 

My  heart  was  sick  as  I  listened.  Nicodemus 
was  so  balanced  and  wise  and  yet  so  anxious. 

"But  there  is  Pilate,"  I  cried,  seeing  a  ray  of 
hope.  "The  Council  cannot  kill  without  the 
Roman  permit.  Pilate  is  no  friend  of  the  Priests." 

"Pilate's  position  is  not  so  secure  that  he  can 
risk  a  conflict  either  with  the  people  or  with  the 
Council.  He  has  few  troops  in  Judea.  The  Rul 
ers  will  bring  such  evidence  that  he  cannot  resist, 
even  if  he  distrust  it.  Men  say,  too,  that  the  Em 
peror  looks  at  him  with  suspicion  since  he  failed 
to  bring  the  ensigns  with  Ccesar's  effigies  to  Jeru 
salem.  The  Jews  defeated  Pilate  in  that.  Here 
again  is  misunderstanding.  Csesar  does  not  know 
the  strength  of  our  feeling  against  graven  images, 
but  if  he  learn  that  his  ensigns  now  pass  Jerusa* 
lem  by  a  back  way,  he  may  demand  the  worship 
of  his  effigy.  The  Jews  will  die  rather  than  ren 
der  it,  and  this  Pilate  knows.  If  he  cannot  make 
Gesar  understand  our  customs,  and  if,  on  top  of 
this,  there  is  tumult,  and  troops  have  to  be  sent 
from  Syria,  Pilate  will  be  recalled,  and  perhaps 
lose  his  head.  There  is  another  matter,  too,  that 


152  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

men  speak  of — Pilate  needs  the  favour  of  the 
High  Priest  in  his  plan  for  bringing  water  by 
aqueduct  to  Jerusalem.  These  Romans  like  to 
leave  such  memorials  of  their  rule.  Pilate  wants 
to  pay  for  this  out  of  the  Temple  treasury.  Where 
else  can  he  find  the  money  ^  If  he  is  to  use  the 
Corban  must  he  not  be  friends  with  the  High 
Priest*?  But  you  know  Pilate,  even  as  I  do." 

"I  have  always  found  him  a  just  man,"  I  said. 

"Just,  but  hard,"  said  Nicodemus.  "What  is 
one  life  to  him  if  he  can  purchase  order  by  sacri 
ficing  it1?  He  has  shed  much  blood  before  and 
will  again." 

We  fell  silent  again,  I  pondering,  and  then 
another  hope,  weak  indeed,  struck  me,  and  I  said, 

"Jesus  is  not  under  the  jurisdiction  of  Pilate. 
He  is  of  Galilee  and  under  Herod.  Herod  has 
shown  great  interest  in  him  and  sent  for  him." 

Nicodemus  shook  his  head. 

"Herod  is  like  all  men  of  his  sort  and  curious 
of  novelty.  Did  Jesus  go  to  see  him1?" 

"No,  he  refused,"  I  answered. 

"Then  Herod  will  do  nothing  to  help  him.  He 
may  be  angry  if  Pilate  usurps  his  authority,  but 
he  does  not  want  sedition  in  Galilee.  If  he  killed 
Jesus  the  people  would  blame  him,  but  Herod  is  a 
fox.  He  will  let  Pilate  do  it,  and  put  the  blame 
on  the  Romans.  And  in  any  case  the  Priests  wil) 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  153 

arrest  Jesus  in  Jerusalem,  and  he  is  under  Pilate 
there." 

"They  cannot  arrest  him  without  evidence  that 
he  preaches  rebellion,"  I  persisted. 

"You  do  not  understand  their  craft,"  said  Nico- 
demus.  "If  they  fail  in  that,  as  they  must  fail, 
Jesus  being  so  wise,  they  have  another  contriv 
ance.  They  will  indict  him  for  treason." 

"Treason?    How  can  that  be?"  I  asked. 

"Our  Priests  maintain  that  the  laws  under 
which  they  hold  their  power  were  given  us  by 
God.  Therefore  to  teach  the  breaking  of  them 
is  blasphemy.  The  desecration  of  the  Sabbath 
may  seem  a  small  matter  to  Pilate,  but  the  Priests 
will  then  say  that  Jesus  preaches  that  he  is  the 
son  of  God  and  that  the  divine  lives  in  him." 

"Of  course  he  does,"  I  said.  "It  is  part  of  his 
teaching  that  God  is  our  father  and  has  his  dwell 
ing  within  us.  I  have  often  heard  him  teach  so. 
And  if  God  is  our  father,  must  we  not  be  his 
sons?" 

"Our  rulers  are  blind,"  said  Nicodemus.  "If 
they  had  feeling  they  could  burst  the  scales  that 
blind  their  eyes.  But  cold-hearted  they  listen  to 
Jesus,  and  when  he  tells  of  a  spiritual  kingdom, 
they  think  he  desires  to  found  an  earthly  one,  and 
when  he  tells  of  the  divine  in  man  they  say  he 
teaches  that  he  himself  is  God.  The  punishment 


154  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

for  blasphemy  is  death.  They  mean  to  kill  him. 
Let  me  tell  you  more.  There  is  a  man,  a  mason, 
who  had  a  withered  arm.  Jesus  healed  him." 

"I  know.    I  saw  him  do  it,"  I  said. 

"The  man  is  working  at  his  trade  again.  The 
Pharisees  were  angry  with  him  for  his  gratitude 
to  Jesus,  and  to  stop  his  mouth  they  told  him  that 
Jesus  claimed  to  be  God,  and  the  man  answered 
that  of  a  certainty  he  was  more  than  man,  for 
such  kindness  was  never  shown  by  a  man  to  men. 
The  Pharisees  are  full  of  wrath  with  the  man, 
but  he  blazons  it  abroad,  and  his  testimony  will 
help  to  kill  Jesus.  That  is  not  the  only  thing. 
There  has  already  been  an  attempt  to  arrest  Jesus. 
The  Chief  Priest  sent  some  of  the  officials  to 
bring  him  before  the  Council,  but  the  men  found 
him  teaching,  and  waited  until  he  had  finished, 
wanting  to  bring  him  away  quietly  for  fear  of 
the  people.  I  was  at  the  Council  myself  when 
the  men  returned  without  Jesus.  The  Chief  Priest 
asked  them  why  they  had  not  brought  Jesus,  and 
all  the  excuse  the  men  could  offer  was  that  they 
had  never  heard  any  man  speak  as  he  did.  The 
Chief  Priest  was  so  taken  aback  that  he  could 
only  say, 

"  'Has  he  deceived  you  too,  as  he  has  the  com 
mon  people,  who  are  ignorant  of  the  law?' 

"Another  of  the  Pharisees  said  to  the  men, 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  155 

"  'The  common  people  are  cursed  in  their  igno 
rance.  None  of  the  Rulers  or  Pharisees  have  been 
taken  in  by  him.'  I  thought  all  this  so  unfair 
that  I  asked  if  it  was  according  to  our  Law  to 
judge  a  man  without  having  heard  his  defence,  or 
even  knowing  anything  of  his  deeds.  They  all 
turned  on  me  then,  and  Jonathan,  the  son  of  An 
nas,  said,  sneering,  'Are  you  also  from  Galilee4? 
Search  the  Scriptures  and  see  whether  they  say 
that  a  Prophet  is  to  come  out  of  Galilee !' ' 

I  laid  my  hand  on  the  hand  of  Nicodemus,  the 
bravery  of  the  frail  old  man  so  touched  me,  and 
for  a  time  we  sat  silent.  Then  he  went  on, 

"There  was  another  day  when  Jesus  was  teach 
ing  in  the  Temple  Court  and  the  Priests  them 
selves  came  to  confront  him.  They  said  to  him, 
'Tell  us  by  what  authority  you  act?  Who  gave 
you  your  authority?'  Jesus  answered  them,  'I  too 
will  ask  you  a  question.  Give  me  an  answer  first. 
Was  the  baptism  that  John  gave  of  divine  or  of 
human  origin?'  You  see  what  a  dilemma  this 
put  them  in?  If  they  said  divine,  Jesus  would 
ask  them  why  they  had  refused  to  believe  in  it, 
and  they  dared  not  say  human  because  of  the  peo 
ple  around  them,  who  all  believed  that  John  was 
inspired." 

"What  did  they  do?"  I  asked. 

"Oh,  they  gave  it  up.     They  said  they  did  not 


156  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

know,  and  Jesus  at  once  answered  that  then  he, 
too,  would  not  answer  them  as  to  his  authority 
for  his  deeds." 

"Is  there  no  way  to  save  him?"  I  asked. 

"I  have  done  what  I  could  and  failed,"  said 
Nicodemus.  "It  was  for  that  I  came  north.  For 
you  may  do  something.  Your  father  was  a  friend 
to  Caiaphas  and  you  know  Pilate.  You  must  go 
to  Jerusalem.  At  the  least  you  can  warn  Jesus 
and  perchance  withdraw  him  for  a  time." 

For  a  moment  hope  lit  up  my  heart.  Then  I 
remembered,  and  the  flame  died  away. 

"Jesus  will  never  flee,"  I  said.  "He  has  it  in 
his  mind  that  he  may  have  to  suffer.  I  mind  me 
of  things  he  has  said.  He  knows  that  if  he  goes 
to  the  Passover  he  goes  most  surely  to  his  death." 

"Nevertheless,  we  may  save  him.  And  if 
not "  Nicodemus  paused. 

"If  not?"  I  repeated. 

"Death  is  the  right  of  all,"  said  Nicodemus. 

"Must  he  die1?"  I  cried  out  in  anguish. 

"If  he  resist,  the  people  will  rise.  Jesus  would 
never  thus  cause  desolation.  But  how  can  he  re 
sist?  Has  he  not  taught  that  wrong  is  never  to 
be  repaid  by  wrong,  or  violence  by  violence1?  If 
he  resists,  the  Pharisees  will  soon  point  out  that 
his  teaching  has  a  flaw.  Has  he  not  said  that  they 
taught  what  they  did  not  mean  to  follow?" 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  157 

I  buried  my  face  in  my  hands. 

"Son,"  said  Nicodemus,  and  in  his  voice  was 
the  great  tenderness  of  the  aged  who  have  learnt 
wisdom  in  the  service  of  God,  "Lift  up  your  heart. 
We  will  do  what  man  can.  It  may  be  possible  to 
persuade  Caiaphas  to  take  no  action  against  Jesus, 
seeing  that  the  teaching  means  peace  and  love 
only.  Let  us  go  to  Capernaum  and  see  Jesus,  and 
then  we  can  travel  on  to  Judea." 

And  so  we  set  out  for  Jerusalem.  But  we  rode 
under  black  shadow,  the  shadow  of  misunder 
standing,  a  shadow  that  darkened  the  world. 


XIV 

IT  was  night  when  we  reached  Capernaum,  and 
save  for  the  barking  of  the  dogs  who  arose 
from  their  sleep  in  the  soft  dust  of  the  street  as 
we  entered,  there  was  no  sound  to  be  heard.  The 
depression  in  me  had  deepened  during  the  slow 
journey  south,  and  as  we  neared  the  crowded  vil 
lages  and  towns  about  the  lake  it  seemed  as  if 
everywhere  man's  power  was  closing  round  me 
crushing  my  life.  No  wind  stirred,  and  there  was 
something  stifling  in  the  air,  as  if  all  freedom  and 
bracing  had  been  left  behind  in  the  cold  north, 
and  the  breath  of  God  had  ceased  to  breathe 
through  Capernaum. 

Near  by  the  house  of  Jesus  I  got  down  from  my 
mule,  leaving  Nicodemus,  who  being  old  was 
worn  out  by  travel,  to  go  on  with  the  mule  train 
to  the  house  where  we  had  settled  to  rest  that 
night.  Misery  was  so  heavy  upon  me  that  I  felt 
I  should  choke  within  walls,  but  Jesus  might  be 
sleeping  beneath  the  palms  in  the  courtyard,  and 
if  I  could  but  see  him  I  felt  the  blackness  would 
fall  from  me. 

158 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  159 

The  moon  was  up  and  shone  through  the  heat 
haze,  but  her  light  was  dim.  The  great  plumes 
of  the  palms  rose  motionless,  massed  against  the 
sky,  but  there  were  no  ox-yokes  stacked  beside  their 
hairy  trunks.  The  beaten  earth  was  swept  and 
desolate.  There  was  not  even  a  shaving  to  be 
seen.  In  haste  I  went  to  the  house,  but  the  shut 
ters  were  tight,  the  door  was  shut,  and  the  outer 
bar  and  wooden  padlock  secure.  For  a  moment 
I  leant  against  the  door.  It  would  have  been  the 
giving  up  of  hope  to  go.  At  last  I  roused  myself, 
and  went  round  the  house  to  the  lake.  The  water 
glimmered  dully,  but  there  were  no  boats  drawn 
up  on  the  shore.  Here,  too,  all  was  swept  and 
desolate.  It  seemed  as  if  the  work  was  finished. 

I  lingered  by  the  shore,  for  I  could  not  face  the 
loneliness  of  a  house  and  of  other  men's  talk.  I 
strained  my  eyes  over  the  lake-shore  searching  for 
something,  I  knew  not  what,  hoping  where  I  knew 
there  was  no  hope,  and  far  away  close  to  the  edge 
of  the  dark  water,  I  saw  the  shrouded  figure  of  a 
woman  crouched  as  if  in  pain.  I  went  towards 
her  hastily,  and  hearing  my  step,  she  turned  and 
as  I  neared  her,  rose  and  stood  hesitating.  The 
moonlight  lit  up  her  face,  and  I  saw  she  was  a 
woman  past  middle  life,  but  handsome  still  with 
the  remains  of  blowzy  beauty.  She  was  so  like 
and  yet  so  unlike  some  woman  that  I  had  known 


160  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

that  I  felt  I  must  know  her,  and  I  cried  aloud, 

"Do  not  be  afraid;  it  is  I." 

At  that  she  came  swiftly  towards  me  and  said, 

"You  seek  Jesus,  but  he  has  gone.  They  are  all 
gone.  Jesus  and  his  mother  and  his  brothers." 

As  she  spoke,  some  turn  of  the  words  told  me 
who  she  was,  in  spite  of  the  change  in  her.  She 
was  the  wife  of  Zebedee,  a  bold-faced  strap  of  a 
woman,  clever  and  managing,  whose  boastfulness 
and  egotism  had  turned  many  from  her,  though 
there  had  always  been  a  coarse  good-nature  about 
her  that  inclined  me  to  her.  But  her  boldness 
had  fallen  from  her  now,  and  she  trembled  as  she 
spoke,  and  I,  seeing  this,  cried  out, 

"Oh,  mother,  what  has  befallen  thee*?"  and  at 
that  she  put  her  hand  on  my  breast  to  steady  her 
self  and  said, 

"Oh,  son,  I  am  bewildered  by  many  thoughts. 
I  am  in  pain." 

"Tell  me,  mother,"  I  answered.  "It  may  ease 
the  pain."  And  at  that,  as  if  she  could  no  longer 
hold  her  peace,  she  broke  into  speech. 

"Jesus  is  gone,"  she  cried.  "And  they  said,  the 
neighbours  all  said,  that  he  was  going  to  Jerusa 
lem  to  take  his  crown.  For  it  is  rumoured  every 
where  that  he  is  to  be  our  king.  So  I,  for  am  I 
not  the  wife  of  Zebedee,  the  owner  of  many  boats'? 
I  dressed  my  hair  and  went  forth  to  say  farewell. 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  161 

My  two  sons  had  been  with  him  from  the  begin 
ning,  and  who  had  a  better  right  than  T?  The 
whole  town  had  gathered  together  to  see  Jesus  go. 
The  courtyard  was  full,  and  Peter,  boasting,  tried 
to  keep  me  back.  'We  go  to  Jerusalem  to  a  tri 
umph,'  he  said.  'Do  not  trouble  the  Master. 
Soon  he  will  be  too  great  for  the  people  of  Caper 
naum.'  But  I  pushed  past  him,  and  the  neigh 
bours  seeing  me,  made  way  for  me.  Why  should 
Peter  have  everything4?  As  I  went  forward  Jesus 
himself  came  out  of  the  house  alone,  and  stopped 
to  put  the  lock  on  the  bar.  When  he  had  pressed 
the  pins  home  he  turned,  and  seeing  me,  greeted 
me,  and  I  cried  out,  'Oh,  Jesus,  I  am  come  to  ask 
a  favour.' 

"  'Ask,'  he  said,  for  you  know  he  is  ever  kind 
to  us  women,  not  like  other  men  who  think  that 
beyond  babes  and  household  we  are  of  no  account. 
So  I  said,  and  my  two  sons  James  and  John  were 
there,  one  on  either  side  of  me, 

"  'I  ask  that  when  you  come  to  your  kingdom 
these  two  sons  of  mine  shall  sit,  one  on  your  right 
and  the  other  on  the  left  hand  of  your  throne,' 
and  the  neighbours,  listening,  said  aloud,  'She  has 
right.  Is  not  Zebedee  the  owner  of  many  boats  *?' 

"But  Jesus  said,  and  his  face  was  grave,  grave 
and  grey  as  the  earth  before  sunrise,  and  at  the 
sound  of  his  voice  silence  fell  on  us  all, 


162  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

"  'Mistress,  you  know  not  what  you  ask.' 

"Then  I  cried  aloud,  for  I  did  not  understand, 
and  why  should  Peter  and  the  others  have  all^ 

"  'Master,  when  you  are  king,  the  glories  of 
your  Kingdom  will  be  yours  to  give  to  whom  you 
please.  When  you  make  a  feast,  you  will  bid  to 
it  whom  you  will,  and  they  will  eat  and  drink  at 
your  table.  I  ask  but  this;  that  you  will  share 
this  glory  with  my  sons,  that  you  will  give  them 
meat  at  your  table,  and  that  they,  too,  shall  drink 
from  your  cup.'  I  had  no  shame  in  speaking  thus, 
and  the  people  all  murmured  in  approval.  Jesus 
turned  to  my  two  sons  and  said, 

"  'Are  you  able  to  drink  of  the  cup  that  I  am 
about  to  drink  *?'  And,  I  prompting  them,  they 
said, 

'Yes,  we  are  able.'  Jesus  turned  to  me  again 
and  looked  me  in  the  face.  His  eyes  were  stead 
fast,  but  it  was  then  that  this  fear  fell  upon  me. 
For  it  is  not  thus  that  kings  look  who  go  to  take 
their  kingdom. 

'  'Oh,  Mistress,'  he  said,  'I  came  not  to  be 
served,  but  to  serve.  Thy  sons  shall  indeed  drink 
of  my  cup,  but  glory  is  not  mine  to  give.  That 
will  be  given  to  whom  God  wills.'  And  with  that 
he  walked  ahead,  and  the  others  followed.  And 
with  them  went  my  two  sons." 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  163 

She  crouched  down  on  the  shore  again,  and 
rocked  herself  to  and  fro. 

"I  have  been  dreaming,"  she  cried.  "Jesus  has 
cast  a  spell  on  me.  He  is  but  a  carpenter.  How 
could  such  as  he  be  King  of  the  Jews'?" 

Then  I,  to  comfort  her,  spoke,  crouching  beside 
her. 

"Oh,  mother,"  I  said,  "David  was  but  a  herd 
boy,  and  Jesus  might  well  be  King  of  the  Jews. 
But  his  kingdom  is  not  of  this  world." 

"He  has  cast  a  spell  on  me,"  she  repeated,  un 
heeding.  "For  even  now,  though  I  saw  him  walk 
forth,  and  did  ever  king  walk  to  his  kingdom?  I 
feel  that  there  is  power  in  him,  and  that  he  is  great. 
Else,  why  should  I  be  thus?" 

For  a  moment  she  hid  her  face  in  her  hands, 
and  then  she  turned  fiercely  to  me  and  said, 

"Look  you,  when  my  two  sons  first  joined  him 
I  was  angry,  for  what  was  he  but  a  workman  like 
others?  But,  afterwards,  when  he  was  often 
about  the  house,  I  saw  that  there  was  something 
in  him  that  was  not  in  other  men.  He  had  a  high 
way  of  looking  at  things  that  other  men  made 
mean,  and  I  felt  there  was  a  great  destiny  for  him. 
And  if  for  him  why  not  for  my  two  sons?  But 
what  has  become  of  my  dreams?  What  have  we 
done  to  him?  He  has  changed.  He  used  to  be  so 
gay  with  his  talk  of  the  kingdom  that  was  coming. 


164  By  ah  Unknown  Disciple 

but  now  when  men  say  he  goes  to  be  king,  the 
gaiety  has  gone  out  of  him.  He  was  more  like  a 
man  going  to  his  death  than  one  who  went  to  take 
a  kingdom.  Oh,  son,  what  is  going  to  become  of 
us  all?' 

"Mother,"  I  said,  "men  are  not  yet  great  enough 
to  hold  by  the  life  that  Jesus  lives.  It  is  too  high 
for  them.  They  grasp  at  it,  but  fall  far  past  it. 
Jesus  is  master  of  life,  but  we,  we  are  the  servants 
of  life.  Whether  he  lives,  or  whether  he  dies,  he 
is  still  master.  For  he  knows,  and  we  are  igno 
rant." 

"What  does  he  know*?"  she  whispered. 

"He  knows  of  the  life  of  the  spirit,"  I  said. 

"Was  it  that  only  he  preached*?"  she  asked. 
"Did  he  not  always  say  he  had  to  establish  a  king 
dom?' 

"Yes,  mother,  but  not  a  kingdom  like  this 
world's  kingdoms.  It  was  a  kingdom  of  love, 
where  the  greatest  is  the  servant  of  all." 

She  pondered  for  a  while,  her  head  on  her  arms. 
Then  she  said,  musing, 

"There  was  that  in  his  face  that  was  dim  to  me. 
He  sees  something  that  other  men  are  blind  to. 
What  is  it  that  he  has  done  to  us4?  He  has  turned 
the  world  upside  down.  And  I?  Am  I  only  a  fool 
old  woman?  For  I  thought  he  was  going  to  be 
king.  And  my  two  sons'?"  Suddenly  her  voice 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  165 

broke  into  a  wail.  "What  will  become  of  my  two 
sons'?  He  said  that  they  should  drink  of  his  cup. 
What  cup  did  he  mean?" 

She  shook  me  by  the  arm  in  her  eagerness. 

"Nay,  mother,"  I  answered.  "How  can  I  say? 
I  go  to  Jerusalem  after  Jesus.  The  cup  that  he 
drinks,  is  it  not  good  enough  for  thy  two  sons'?" 

"Is  it  death*?"  she  cried,  peering  at  me  through 
the  darkness. 

"And  what  if  it  is?"  I  said,  for  I  could  not  lie 
to  her.  "Thy  sons  may  return,  but  Jesus — 

"He  will  never  return.  There  was  death  in 
his  face.  He  has  taken  them  from  me.  My  sons 
will  be  slain." 

And  with  that  she  fell  into  bitter  weeping  and 
rocked  herself  to  and  fro. 


XV 


THE  journey  to  Jerusalem  was  long  to  me. 
Beyond  Magdala  where  the  black  hills  begin 
to  close  in  upon  the  lake  we  were  delayed  by  the 
passing  of  camel  trains  laden  with  salt  fish  and 
bound  for  Ptolemais,  while  all  the  way  the  people 
going  up  to  Jerusalem  for  the  Passover  thronged 
the  roads  and  made  haste  impossible.  We  did  not 
linger  to  see  the  beauty  of  Herod's  new  city  of 
Tiberias.  The  black  citadel  above  the  town,  the 
palace  and  theatre  and  forum  were  Greek,  not 
Jewish,  and  the  place  was  alien  to  us.  The  gaiety 
and  clatter,  the  painted  courtesans  in  their  Greek 
clothing,  and  even  the  blue  lake  with  its  fleet  of 
gaudy  pleasure  boats  were  sinister  and  strange. 
But  indeed,  at  Tiberias  and  during  the  long  jour 
ney  south  through  the  stony  wastes  of  Judea, 
where  only  stringy,  grey-green  grass  seemed  to 
flourish,  I  saw  little  of  what  was  around  me.  My 
mind  had  outstripped  my  body,  and  was  entering 
Jerusalem  with  Jesus.  What  had  happened  to 
him? 

Beyond    Bethshan    we   caught   up    with   more 

166 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  167 

camel  trains,  this  time  bound  for  Jerusalem  with 
salt  fish  for  the  Passover.  We  made  what  haste 
we  could,  but  as  we  neared  the  Damascus  Gate 
the  crowds  grew  thicker,  and  it  was  harder  to  press 
through  them.  It  was  the  day  before  the  Pass 
over  when  we  came  out  on  the  flat  table-land  above 
Jerusalem.  Even  then,  when  in  the  clear  air  of 
noon  the  Holy  City  set  on  the  hills  rose  before 
us  in  all  its  glory  of  towers  and  bastions,  I  was 
in  such  haste  to  find  Jesus  that  I  had  no  mind  to 
look  at  it.  But  somewhere  on  my  inner  eye  that 
picture  must  have  stamped  itself,  for  to  this  day, 
if  I  but  close  my  lids,  I  can  see  its  wonder.  On 
the  side  of  the  sea  against  the  pale  sky  of  spring 
the  Tower  of  David  still  stands  on  Mount  Sion, 
while  over  against  the  sun-rising  the  Citadel  and 
Temple,  high  above  the  Valley  of  Giants,  show 
Mount  Olivet  beyond.  It  seemed,  indeed,  the  City 
of  God,  but  it  was  out  past  that  beauty  that  Jesus 
went  to  his  death. 

The  steep  streets  of  Jerusalem  were  full  of 
people.  Men  talked  together  in  groups  angrily 
or  earnestly,  and  moved  restlessly  from  one  group 
to  another,  blocking  the  way  of  those  who  wished 
to  enter  the  City.  I  had  never  seen  such  restless 
ness  in  a  Passover  crowd,  and  my  mind  misgave 
me  that  the  tumult  and  excitement  boded  ill  to 
Jesus;  so  I  slipped  from  my  mule,  and  sending  it 


168  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

on  with  the  men-servants,  mixed  with  the  throng 
to  hear  what  men  said. 

The  stream  of  people  entering  the  City  pressed 
down  the  narrow  street  towards  the  Temple.  It 
was  slow  moving  in  that  current,  so  I  pushed  out 
of  it  into  the  shelter  of  an  archway,  where  I  could 
stand  a  few  steps  above  the  crowd.  A  small  group 
of  men  had  already  taken  refuge  in  the  courtyard 
within,  where  they  debated  noisily,  heedless  of 
the  roar  of  the  crowd  without. 

"The  man  is  a  dangerous  rebel,"  I  heard  one 
say  in  the  precise  accent  of  the  Scribes.  "You 
have  but  to  look  at  what  he  is  doing  and  mark 
the  people  who  follow  him.  You  can  then  judge 
for  yourself  if  he  have  any  regard  for  the  law." 

"All  Galileans  are  rebels  and  the  encouragers 
of  lawlessness,"  said  another. 

Hearing  this  I  went  into  the  courtyard  and 
joined  myself  to  the  men,  who,  occupied  solely 
with  their  dispute,  paid  no  heed  to  me. 

"Jesus  is  not  unlawful,  but  he  mars  the  path 
of  the  Priests.  That  is  why  they  hate  him,"  said 
a  rough  man  in  the  coarse  dialect  of  Galilee. 

"I  am  no  friend  of  the  Priests,  but  I  call  riot 
ing  in  the  very  courts  of  the  Temple  unlawful," 
put  in  another  voice,  and  the  Galilean  answered 
hotly, 

"It  is  the  trading  that  is  unlawful.     Men  have 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  169 

no  right  to  make  a  market  of  the  courts.  The 
Temple  was  meant  for  worship,  not  for  money- 
making." 

"He  has  right,"  said  another.  I  could  not  see 
the  speaker,  but  it  was  the  voice  of  an  old  man. 
"It  was  not  so  in  my  day.  The  courts  of  the  Tem 
ple  grow  more  heathen  every  year.  It  is  more 
like  a  street  of  booths  than  the  entrance  to  a  place 
of  prayer.  It  is  a  scandal." 

"They  lack  but  one  thing,  a  temple  to  Venus," 
said  a  fat  man,  with  a  laugh. 

"Men  must  buy  the  sacrifices  somewhere,  and  as 
for  the  money-changers,  well,  if  the  Priests  will 
not  take  Roman  money—  '  began  another,  but 
the  Scribe  cut  him  short. 

"The  bartering  is  wrong,"  he  said.  "I  do  not 
object  to  Jesus  wishing  to  reform  such  things. 
I  object  to  the  way  he  does  it." 

"What  ought  he  to  have  done?"  asked  the  Gali 
lean,  and  the  other  touched  perhaps,  by  the  scorn 
in  his  voice,  answered,  with  some  heat, 

"He  could  have  gone  to  those  in  authority.  If 
he  had  pointed  out  to  the  High  Priest  what  was 
wrong " 

The  fat  man  slapped  himself  on  the  thigh  and 
laughed  aloud,  and  most  of  the  other  men  joined 
in  the  laugh;  for  indeed  it  was  common  gossip  that 
Annas  drew  rent  from  the  booths. 


170  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

"Jesus  need  not  have  whipped  them  out  like 
dogs." 

"How  else  could  he  have  done  it*?"  cried  the 
Galilean.  "Dogs  they  were,  defiling  the  Temple. 
Can  one  reason  with  dogs^" 

There  was  a  murmur  of  assent,  for  there  was 
great  indignation  in  Jerusalem  at  the  Priests'  tol 
erance  of  evil,  and  at  their  pandering  to  the  pagan 
customs  of  Rome. 

The  wily  Scribe,  seeing  he  had  not  carried  many 
with  him,  hastily  changed  his  ground,  and  said, 

"Jesus  may  have  right  in  this,  but  in  other  mat 
ters  he  goes  too  far.  If  we  once  admit  his  teach 
ing,  there  will  be  an  end  to  the  law." 

The  Galilean  opened  his  lips,  but  before  he 
could  reply  another  man  broke  in. 

"That  is  true.  There  is  no  doubt  he  can  sway 
the  minds  of  men.  There  was  a  time  when  he 
attracted  me;  but  he  goes  too  far.  He  alarms 
people." 

"What  are  you  afraid  of?"  asked  the  Galilean; 
and  the  other,  nettled  by  the  tone  of  his  voice, 
answered  shortly, 

"He  preaches  blasphemy." 

"I  have  often  heard  him  teach,  but  never  blas 
phemy,"  the  Galilean  began,  but  the  other  inter 
rupted, 

"Were  you  in  Jerusalem  in  the  winter4?     No*? 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  171 

I  thought  as  much.  If  you  had  been,  as  we  were, 
you  would  have  heard  what  all  Jerusalem  heard." 

"I  was  in  Jerusalem.  I  heard  men  say  Jesus 
was  mad,"  said  one,  and  "I,  too,"  said  another,  and 
"I  heard  he  was  possessed,"  said  a  third,  so  that 
the  Galilean,  taken  aback  by  so  much  accord,  could 
only  answer  doggedly, 

"Jesus  never  preached  blasphemy." 

"Not  only  did  he  preach  it,  but  he  was  nearly 
stoned  for  it.  He  slipped  away  by  a  back  path 
and  escaped,"  said  the  man  who  had  first  spoken 
of  blasphemy. 

"Did  you  hear  him  yourself?"  demanded  the 
Galilean,  fiercely.  And  the  other  answered  re 
luctantly, 

"I  was  not  there  myself.  But  I  was  told  by 
a  friend  who  was."  The  triumphant  Galilean 
laughed  aloud  and  cried  out  scornfully, 

"Is  there  one  here  who  himself  heard  Jesus 
teach  blasphemy?"  And  unexpectedly  the  Scribe 
replied, 

"I  heard." 

There  was  a  silence,  and  then  the  Galilean  said, 

"Tell  us  what  he  said,"  and  the  others  joining 
in  urged,  "Yes,  tell  us  what  he  said." 

"He  said  that  he  and  God  were  one,"  said  the 
Scribe. 


172  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

There  was  another  silence,  and  the  men  crowded 
nearer  to  the  speaker. 

"Go  on,"  said  a  voice  eagerly. 

"The  people  who  heard  were  angry,  and  took 
up  stones  to  stone  him,  but  he  asked  for  which  of 
the  good  deeds  which  he  had  done  were  they  going 
to  slay  him.  Tor  no  good  deed,'  the  men  replied, 
'but  for  blasphemy,  because  you,  being  a  man, 
make  yourself  out  to  be  God.'  ' 

The  Scribe  stopped  again,  and  the  Galilean  said 
impatiently,  "What  did  Jesus  answer4?" 

"He  asked  if  it  did  not  stand  written  in  the 
law,  'I  said,  Ye  are  gods,  and  all  of  you  are 
children  of  the  Most  High.'  The  men  said  it  was 
so  written,  and  then  Jesus  asked  them,  if  those 
to  whom  God's  word  was  spoken  were  called  gods, 
why  did  they  say  that  he  whom  God  had  sent  as 
a  messenger  was  blaspheming  when  he  said  he 
was  God's  son.  It  was  after  that  that  they  tried 
to  arrest  him,  but  he  got  away." 

"He  is  very  clever.  He  got  out  of  it  neatly," 
said  the  fat  man. 

"I  see  no  blasphemy  in  that,"  said  the  Galilean, 
but  with  more  doubt. 

"It  is  blasphemy.  He  ought  to  be  stoned," 
said  a  hard  voice  that  I  had  not  heard  before. 

"No — no.     It  is  wrong  to  take  life,  and  there 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  173 

is  great  wisdom  in  his  other  teaching,"  said  the  old 
man. 

"Jesus  will  lose  his  life  for  all  that,"  repeated 
the  hard  voice. 

"Who  will  dare  to  lay  a  hand  on  him'?"  asked 
the  Galilean  fiercely. 

"Our  Rulers.  He  talks  too  much  of  the  need 
for  clean  sweeps  and  not  patching  old  garments," 
replied  the  merciless  voice. 

"His  followers  have  grown,  and  now  comes  this 
clearing  of  the  Temple  courts.  The  Council  will 
surely  arrest  him,"  said  the  Scribe. 

"They  must  reckon  with  us  Galileans  first,"  said 
the  Galilean  stoutly;  and  with  this  there  broke 
out  a  tumult  of  so  many  voices  that  I  could  not 
hear  what  the  men  said.  But  I  had  learnt  enough, 
and  sick  at  heart  I  went  forth  into  the  noise  of  the 
street  to  seek  Nicodemus,  and  consult  with  him 
what  could  be  done. 

Now  the  house  of  Nicodemus  lay  close  to  that 
of  Caiaphas,  and  their  courtyards  adjoined.  Here 
on  Mount  Zion  there  was  not  so  great  a  throng, 
so  that  as  I  went  to  the  gate  of  Nicodemus  and 
one  coming  in  haste  from  the  courtyard  of  Caia 
phas  knocked  up  against  me  as  if  he  were  blind, 
I  looked  up  in  wonder,  and  behold  it  was  Judas 
Iscariot. 

I  seized  him  by  the  arm. 


174  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

"Judas,"  I  cried,  "you  are  the  very  man  I  would 
speak  with.  Come  apart  here,"  and  I  drew  him 
aside  into  an  embrasure  where  there  was  a  stone 
seat.  He  resisted  a  little. 

"I  am  in  haste,"  he  said,  but  I  overbore  him. 

"I  will  not  keep  you,  Judas,  but  I  must  see 
Jesus.  He  is  in  danger.  Where  is  he*?"  I  said. 

"Jesus'?  I  do  not  know,"  he  answered  reluc 
tantly. 

"Where  does  he  lodge4?"  I  asked. 

"Lower  down  on  the  Mount.  At  the  house  of 
John.  But  of  late  he  has  taken  to  sleep  on  the 
Mount  of  Olives.  At  least  he  spends  the  nights 
there.  For  aught  I  know  he  may  be  there  now. 
No.  He  cannot,  for  he  has  asked  us  all  to  sup 
with  him  to-night.  I  mean  those  who  were  first 
called,"  he  added  hastily,  and  I,  wondering  at  the 
confusion  of  his  speech  and  somewhat  hurt  at  this 
exclusion  of  me,  answered, 

"I  must  see  him.  No.  Not  now,  after  the 
supper.  Where  will  he  be  then?" 

Judas  looked  at  me  with  a  horror  growing  in  his 
eyes. 

"He  will  surely  be  in  the  Garden  of  Gethsem- 
ane.  It  is  at  the  foot  of  the  Mount  of  Olives. 
You  reach  it  from  the  Temple.  By  the  Golden 
Gate." 

"Of  course.  I  know  where  the  Garden  is,"  I  said, 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  175 

wondering  still  more,  and  then  I  put  my  wonder 
aside  and  told  him  what  I  had  just  heard.  When 
I  had  finished  he  sat  silent  for  a  moment. 

Then  he  began  to  speak. 

"He  throws  away  all  his  chances.  We  Judeans 
are  not  roused  as  easily  as  the  Galileans,  yet  only 
the  other  day  he  entered  Jerusalem  with  triumph 
such  as  few  men  have  known.  But  he  would  not 
follow  it  up.  I  could  not  make  him  see  that  the 
Jews  want  a  king,  not  new  teaching.  I  urged,  but 
he  would  not  act.  He  had  but  to  lift  his  hand, 
and  he  would  have  been  the  leader  of  a  following 
that  would  have  swept  Pilate  and  the  Romans 
into  the  sea.  After  that,  could  he  not  have  dealt 
with  the  Priests'?  But  he  must  needs  go  and  clear 
the  courts  of  the  Temple  now,  now,  before  he  has 
an  army  to  back  him." 

Amazed  at  his  talk  when  I  had  just  told  him 
Jesus  was  in  danger,  I  said, 

"Jesus  does  not  want  any  but  a  spiritual  king 
dom." 

Judas  looked  at  me  askance. 

"He  cannot  be  such  a  fool,"  he  said. 

"It  is  not  folly,  but  the  way  out  of  folly,"  I 
answered,  but  Judas  had  ceased  to  listen.  He  sat 
bent  forward,  his  elbow  on  his  knee,  and  as  his 
custom  was,  he  gnawed  his  knuckles.  Suddenly 


176  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

he  straightened  himself  and  said  swiftly  as  if  he 
argued  with  some  one, 

"He  lacks  strength  to  make  himself  king.  His 
followers  are  falling  away.  Some  even  of  the  dis 
ciples  have  left  him.  When  others  would  take  him 
by  force  and  make  him  a  king  he  goes  away  and 
hides,  yes,  hides." 

His  eyes  began  to  glow  with  their  old  fanatical 
light. 

"The  Pharisees  have  put  this  talk  of  blasphemy 
about  for  their  own  ends,  but  Jesus  will  not  come 
out  into  the  open  and  deny  it.  If  he  would  but 
lead  us  now  when  the  city  is  full  of  Galileans, 
instead  of  being  half-a-dozen  unknown  men,  we 
should  occupy  Jerusalem  at  the  head  of  thousands. 
The  Romans  are  a  mere  handful,  and  would  flee 
before  us.  But  Jesus  is  too  soft." 

"Cannot  you  see  how  great  he  is,  Judas  *?"  I 
asked. 

Judas  moved  uneasily. 

"No  man  has  greater  powers,"  he  said.  "Other 
Deliverers  have  failed,  but  Jesus  could  free  us  if 
he  willed.  If  I  had  but  half  his  power,  I  would 
never  lay  down  my  arms  till  we  had  obtained  our 
freedom.  Is  this  the  time  to  preach  love  when 
the  Romans  have  us  in  their  grip?  If  he  is  left 
to  go  his  own  way,  they  will  rule  for  ever.  I 
tell  you  there  is  but  one  ..." 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  177 

He  bit  off  his  words  and  was  silent.  Then  I, 
prompting  him,  for  he  seemed  as  one  who  talks  in 
his  sleep,  said, 

"Yes,  Judas.    One  way*?    You  said?" 

He  passed  his  hand  over  his  eyes  bewildered. 

"It  is  naught,"  he  said.  Then,  rising,  he  added 
as  if  to  reassure  himself, 

"Jesus  will  not  heed  me.  But  we  will  see.  I 
have  done  what  I  could." 

"I,  too,  will  do  what  I  can,"  I  said.  "I  go  to 
see  the  High  Priest."  At  that  I  stopped,  amazed 
at  the  fear  that  sprang  into  the  eyes  of  Judas,  and 
thinking  that  he  feared  for  Jesus,  I  added, 

"Caiaphas  was  my  father's  friend.  If  I  tell 
him  I  am  a  friend  of  Jesus,  he  may  listen." 

The  fear  died  out  of  the  eyes  of  Judas. 

"You  will  not  find  him  now,"  he  said  wearily, 
again  as  if  he  spoke  in  his  sleep. 

"How  do  you  know1?  Have  you  seen  him?" 
I  asked,  astonished. 

"I?  Why  should  I  see  the  High  Priest?"  said 
Judas  hastily;  then,  warily,  as  a  man  picks  his 
steps  across  shaking  ground,  he  added, 

"Men  say  there  is  a  Council  meeting  to-night. 
I  do  not  know.  Why  should  I  know  of  such 
things?  I  must  go.  I  shall  be  missed  at  the  Sup 
per."  And  abruptly  without  further  parley,  he 
went  on  his  way. 


XVI 

NOW  Annas,  who  had  been  High  Priest,  was 
a  man  of  a  little  soul  and  a  great  lover  of 
money.  He  loved  empire  too,  and  abusing  the 
liberty  which  the  Romans  allowed  our  Council,  he 
had  usurped  the  power  of  the  Procurator,  and  had 
put  men  to  death  without  obtaining  the  Roman 
assent.  Because  of  this  unlawfulness  the  Procu 
rator  had  forced  the  Council  to  take  away  from 
him  the  High  Priesthood,  but  he,  by  scheming,  had 
seen  to  it  that  the  office  passed  to  his  son-in-law 
Caiaphas,  so  that  the  supremacy,  in  seeming  lost 
to  Annas,  was  still  in  his  family,  and  he  himself 
had  held  great  authority.  But  he  was  an  old  man 
now,  and  most  of  the  real  power  lay  in  the  hands 
of  Caiaphas.  It  was  him  I  had  to  see.  When 
Judas  had  left  me  I  did  not  at  once  go  to  his  door. 
The  talk  with  Judas  had  troubled  me,  and  I  sat 
on  thinking.  There  was  something  hidden  from 
me,  and  I  felt  that  new  danger  threatened  Jesus. 
If  I  could  but  read  the  mind  of  Judas  I  should 
know  what  it  was.  But  I  was  like  a  man  who  sees 
a  light  floating  in  the  mist -and  strains  after  it,  only 

178 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  179 

to  find  it  move  further  off.  So  after  a  time  I 
gave  it  up,  and  went  to  the  house  of  the  High 
Priest. 

Caiaphas  was  a  man  of  a  fierce  countenance, 
and  tall  above  the  height  of  other  men.  There 
was  no  flesh  on  his  bones,  his  lips  were  thin,  and 
his  nose  like  the  beak  of  a  hawk.  His  eyes,  too, 
were  hawk's  eyes,  and  could  hood  themselves  at 
will,  hiding  his  mind.  There  was  no  suppleness 
in  any  part  of  him.  When  I  found  myself  before 
him,  and  we  had  greeted  one  another,  he  looked  at 
me  out  of  his  hard  eyes. 

"It  is  an  ill  time  for  you  to  be  in  Jerusalem. 
You  would  be  better  away.  The  city  is  full  of 
tumultuous  doings."  He  spoke  coldly,  and  in  his 
voice  was  an  edged  warning. 

"I  have  just  come  from  the  Lebanon.  I  would 
speak  with  you  alone,"  I  said.  Caiaphas  turned 
and  told  the  men-servants  who  were  in  the  room 
to  stand  aside,  and  they  did  so.  When  we  were 
alone  he  said  sternly, 

"I  have  heard  much  of  you.  You  are  known 
to  have  been  in  ill  company,  and  the  rumour  has 
done  you  no  good." 

"Do  you  mean  Jesus'?  He  is  my  friend,"  I 
said,  my  heart  waxing  hot  within  me. 

"He  is  a  dangerous  friend.  For  your  father's 
sake  I  would  bear  much  from  you,  but  do  not  try 


180  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

my  patience  too  far.  You  have  always  been  one 
of  those  who  are  too  fond  of  innovations.  It 
would  be  better  for  you  to  return  to  the  Lebanon, 
and  leave  this  Jesus  to  his  reward.  He  is  a  rash 
guide  for  youth." 

I  was  angry  at  this. 

"Who  says  he  is  dangerous  ?"  I  cried  out. 

"I  say  it.     He  is  leading  the  people  astray/' 

"You  have  talked  with  him  yourself?"  I  asked. 

"I  have  never  seen  him,"  he  answered  haugh 
tily. 

"How,  then,  do  you  know  that  he  is  leading  the 
people  astray*?" 

"I  have  heard  of  this  kingdom  that  he  preaches," 
said  Caiaphas,  a  glow  of  anger  in  his  eyes  at  my 
persistence.  "He  is  stirring  the  people  up  to  up 
set  the  law  and  destroy  all  order.  The  nation  was 
peaceful  and  there  was  no  agitation  before  he 
came,  but  his  teaching  is  making  men  discon 
tented." 

"The  teaching  of  the  Kingdom  is  in  our  own 
Scriptures,"  I  said. 

"Why,  then,  does  Jesus  tell  the  people  that  their 
rulers  will  not  welcome  it1?  Do  not  we  also  read 
the  Prophets'?  What  can  this  man  teach  that  we 
do  not  know*?" 

"You  have  not  taught  the  people  what  you 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  181 

know,"  I  answered  boldly,  and  Caiaphas,  resting 
his  eyes  on  me  for  a  moment,  answered, 

"How  can  the  ignorant  be  taught  the  law?  Can 
the  poor  man  bear  rule4?  Jesus  knows  nothing  of 
government.  He  would  bring  calamities  of  all 
kinds  upon  us.  The  wise  man  must  rule,  and  wis 
dom  comes  by  opportunity  of  leisure.  How  shall 
he  get  leisure  that  mindeth  the  plough  and  whose 
talk  is  of  bullocks'?" 

His  voice  was  that  of  a  man  who  reasons  with 
a  child. 

"Does  not  bearing  rule  over  others  destroy  wis 
dom?"  I  asked. 

Caiaphas  looked  at  me  as  if  I  uttered  madness, 

"Does  Jesus  preach  such  folly?"  he  said,  and  I 
answered, 

"Jesus  would  have  the  wise  teach  those  who  are 
ignorant,  and  the  strong  help  those  who  are  weak." 

Caiaphas  was  silent  for  a  moment,  and  when  he 
spoke  it  was  with  impatience. 

"How  could  such  a  kingdom  stand?  Jesus  for 
gets  the  nature  of  man.  Envy  and  greed,  hatred 
and  malice,  are  human.  If  the  people  follow  his 
doctrine  nothing  will  be  restrained  from  them  that 
they  have  imagined  to  do,  and  how  shall  the  State 
be  maintained?  There  will  not  be  a  man  left  who 
will  till  the  ground.  No.  If  you  would  have 


182  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

peace  in  your  borders,  it  must  be  by  the  rule  of 
the  strong." 

Caiaphas  spoke  as  if  this  were  the  only  truth. 
His  certainty  staggered  me,  and  for  a  moment  I 
was  almost  convinced  by  the  wisdom  of  this  world. 
Then  suddenly  I  seemed  to  see  the  face  of  Jesu: 
and  the  kindliness  in  his  eyes,  and  the  vision  sc 
moved  me  that  I  cried  out, 

"Jesus  teaches  that  love  is  a  greater  power  thar/ 
fear." 

At  this  Caiaphas  looked  at  me  sternly. 

"You  are  indeed  besotted  by  this  man.  You 
do  not  see  him  as  he  is.  I  will  tell  you  the  secret 
of  Jesus.  He  wants  to  sweep  away  all  old  things. 
This  new  wine  of  his  must  not  be  put  in  old  bot 
tles.  For  why?  Because  Jesus  will  allow  none 
to  bear  rule  but  himself.  So,  forsooth,  we  must 
all  make  a  fresh  start." 

"He  means  a  fresh  start  in  the  hearts  of  men. 
It  is  the  law  of  love,"  I  said. 

The  thin  lips  of  Caiaphas  were  set  tight. 

"It  is  the  law  of  rebellion,"  he  said,  "and  the 
Council  will  deal  with  it."  And  at  that  I  spoke 
out. 

"Men  read  his  teaching  wrong.  They  have  re 
ported  it  wrong  to  you.  I  have  never  heard  Jesus 
preach  aught  but  peace  and  love." 

"Cannot  I  judge  for  myself?    Is  it  for  such  as 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  183 

you  to  teach  the  High  Priest?"  he  said  insolently. 
This  angered  me,  but  I  heeded  it  not,  and  being 
afraid  for  Jesus,  humbled  myself  and  laid  aside 
the  fury  of  my  mind. 

"Jesus  is  my  friend,"  I  said,  "and  I  love  him. 
For  my  sake,  will  you  not  show  mercy1?" 

Caiaphas  answered  not  a  word.  His  eyes  met 
mine,  and  we  looked  at  one  another.  Then  I  fell 
back  a  step,  for  I  saw  I  had  lost  my  case  before  I 
had  stated  it.  Caiaphas  was  not  merciful.  The 
pain  of  other  men  did  not  vibrate  within  his  soul. 
One  note  will  answer  to  another  if  plucked  on  a 
different  instrument,  but  the  lifeless  strings  made 
more  response  than  he.  He  could  watch  the  heart 
being  torn  from  out  the  living  body  of  a  man,  and 
not  feel  one  echoing  pang.  Yet  nothing  in  his 
nature  made  him  ashamed,  for  he  did  not  know 
himself.  On  the  smooth  rock  of  his  self-ignorance 
I  could  make  no  mark.  As  well  might  one  strive 
with  naked  hands  to  tear  down  the  foundations 
of  Zion.  But  I  could  not  leave  him  without  one 
more  effort  to  save  Jesus. 

"Caiaphas,"  I  said,  "you  have  warned  me.  I, 
too,  would  warn  you.  There  is  danger  for  you. 
It  will  not  be  easy  to  crush  Jesus,  for  the  people 
love  him.  He  has  many  followers." 

Caiaphas  looked  at  me. 

"All  his  followers  do  not  love  him,"  he  said. 


184  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

With  that  something  that  had  been  hiding  in 
the  depths  of  my  soul  rose  and  possessed  me.  The 
light  after  which  I  had  strained  suddenly  lit  up 
my  mind,  and  I  knew  the  truth.  Judas  had  be 
trayed  Jesus.  He  had  seen  Caiaphas,  and  they 
had  a  plan  between  them.  For  a  moment  more 
I  looked  into  the  eyes  of  the  High  Priest,  and  then 
I  turned  and  went  from  his  presence. 

I  found  Nicodemus  in  an  inner  room  of  his 
house,  and  with  him  was  Joseph  of  Arimathea. 
They  were  both  perturbed.  Joseph,  like  Nico 
demus,  was  a  Ruler  of  Israel,  and  all  men  trusted 
him  because  of  his  uprightness.  Now  his  broad 
frank  face  was  troubled,  and  his  kindly  eyes 
clouded.  As  I  told  my  tale  his  fingers  were  in  his 
curly  brown  beard,  twisting  it  anxiously. 

When  I  had  finished  he  said, 

"Judas  may  be  in  league  with  Caiaphas,  but  I 
do  not  see  how  that  will  profit  them  now.  The 
Council  cannot  act  at  once.  The  Passover  is  too 
near.  Even  if  Caiaphas  arrested  Jesus  to-night, 
and  the  Council  examined  him  and  concluded  the 
trial  early  to-morrow,  it  would  still  be  too  late  to 
kill  him.  Before  sentence  is  passed  a  day  must 
elapse,  and  by  that  time  it  will  be  the  Passover. 
They  cannot  condemn  him  during  the  feast;  but 
when  it  is  over  and  the  city  quiet  again  they  will 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  185 

surely  try  to  take  him.  Therefore  we  must  get 
him  away  at  once." 

So  it  was  settled.  Nicodemus  was  to  go  to  the 
house  of  John  close  by  on  Mount  Zion,  to  see  if 
Jesus  was  still  there.  Joseph  would  order  mules 
to  be  sent  out  of  the  city,  and  I,  seeing  that  Judas 
had  said  Jesus  might  be  in  the  Garden  of  Geth- 
semane,  was  to  seek  him  there  and  warn  him. 

"The  gates  close  at  sunset,"  said  Joseph.  "You 
will  have  time  to  get  out  by  the  Golden  Gate  of 
the  Temple  if  you  hasten.  When  you  have  found 
Jesus  withdraw  him  to  Bethany  where  the  mules 
will  meet  you.  Once  we  have  him  in  the  north 
we  can  hide  him  till  this  is  blown  over.  Hasten 
now,  or  the  gates  will  be  shut." 

So  I,  for  the  second  time  that  day,  pressed 
through  the  narrow  streets  and  heedless  of  the 
tumult,  ground  against  the  crowd,  pushing  on 
till  I  came  to  the  courts  of  the  Temple.  Here  I 
passed  out  by  the  Golden  Gate,  and  stood  outside 
the  wall  above  the  steep  valley  of  Jehoshaphat, 
on  the  other  side  of  which  was  Mount  Olivet. 


XVII 

THE  valley  of  Jehoshaphat  is  so  deep  that  a 
man  can  scarce  climb  up  or  down  on  his 
hands  and  feet,  and  on  its  other  side  the  road 
comes  steep  and  narrow  from  the  Mount  of  Olives 
to  the  brook  Kedron.  It  was  nigh  sunset  when  I 
crossed  the  stream,  and  began  to  clamber  up  the 
hill  between  the  gnarled  trunks  of  the  olive  trees. 
The  Garden  of  Gethsemane  was  sunk  in  silence. 
I  heard  no  voice,  I  saw  no  one,  and,  despite  my 
self,  I  slackened  my  pace  and  steadied  my  breath 
ing.  In  such  a  quiet  the  tumult  and  evil  of  the 
city  were  but  a  dream.  God  himself  might  walk 
in  that  stillness  and  beauty  in  the  cool  of  the 
evening. 

Near  the  top  of  the  mountain,  where  the  olive 
trees  fall  away  and  the  rough  stone  wall  follows 
the  bend  of  the  hill,  I  came  out  into  the  open. 
The  sun  was  setting  and  the  evening  shadows  lay 
on  the  land.  To  the  east,  beyond  the  bald  grey 
slopes  of  the  Wilderness,  the  Mountains  of  Moab 
were  deepening  into  amethyst  and  purple,  and  in 
the  abyss  the  bright  blue  of  the  Dead  Sea  dark- 

186 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  187 

ened  into  black.  The  glow  in  the  west  dyed  the 
towers  of  Jerusalem  rose-red,  and  split  on  the  flat 
rocks  outside  the  walls  as  if  a  fire  burnt  over  them. 
In  the  clear  light  it  seemed  that  one  might  throw 
a  stone  into  the  Courts  of  the  Temple,  but  no 
sound  from  within  the  city  floated  over  to  this 
height.  It  was  a  land  barren  and  desolate,  but 
beautiful  with  an  exceeding  great  beauty.  For  a 
moment  I  stood  forgetting  my  mission  lost  in  the 
glory  before  me,  and  then  I  felt  a  hand  laid  on 
my  shoulder  and  turning  I  saw  Jesus.  At  the. 
sight  of  his  face  my  welfare  passed  away  as  a 
cloud,  and  misery  possessed  my  soul.  An  im 
mense  loneliness  lay  upon  him,  and  in  his  eyes  was 
desolation.  Seeing  my  distress  he  bent  and  kissed 
me,  and,  his  hand  still  on  my  shoulder,  asked  after 
my  well-being,  but  I  could  not  answer,  for  I  re 
membered  his  danger,  and  shame  was  upon  me. 

"Jesus,"  I  stammered,  "I  have  come  to  warn 
you.  I  have  seen  Caiaphas,  and  you  must  flee." 

His  grip  tightened  on  my  shoulder. 

"Where  shall  I  flee?"  he  asked.  "Can  a  man 
flee  from  the  will  of  God  ?  If  I  climb  up  to  heaven 
his  hand  shall  take  me,  if  I  dig  into  hell  is  he  not 
there  also*?"  and  at  that  I  knew  I  should  not  pre 
vail. 

"It  is  death  if  you  stay,"  I  whispered. 

"God  is  our  guide  even  unto  death,"  he  an- 


188  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

swered,  and  then  a  great  trembling  fell  upon  him, 
so  that  he  shook  beside  me,  and  I  trembled  too, 
afraid  to  speak. 

"My  soul  is  full  of  trouble,  but  what  can  I 
say*?"  he  cried.  "I  have  prayed  to  God  to  save 
me,  but  it  may  be  for  his  purpose  that  I  have  come 
to  this  hour.  He  gave  me  command  what  to  say 
and  in  what  words  to  speak,  and  I  have  given  the 
message.  If  I  must  die  I  obey,  for  in  obedience 
to  him  is  the  life  of  the  ages.  But  I  am  in  fear." 

The  sweat  broke  out  on  his  face,  and  I,  sick 
at  heart  at  his  woe,  could  only  hold  my  peace 
and  listen,  helpless. 

"God  has  forsaken  me.  I  have  fallen  out  of 
the  knowledge  of  his  purpose,  and  the  fear  of 
death  is  upon  me.  I  pray,  but  there  is  no  answer. 
I  cry,  but  no  one  hears.  I  am  shut  out  of  the 
world  of  the  spirit.  I  wander  in  desolate  places, 
and  cannot  find  my  way." 

I  loved  him  so  that  it  seemed  as  if  the  barrier 
set  between  soul  and  soul  broke  suddenly,  and 
there  came  upon  me  a  wide  rushing  in  of  waters 
as  his  desolation  rolled  itself  over  me. 

"Is  there  no  way  of  escape?  Must  you  die*?" 
I  cried,  but  he  answered, 

"The  gifts  of  God  cannot  be  cast  away.  If 
he  gives  death,  shall  I  not  take  it*?"  And  then 
he  cried  out  with  a  loud  and  bitter  cry, 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  189 

"I  found  all  men  drunken,  and  none  found  I 
athirst.  I  have  poured  out  my  soul,  and  no  man 
heeds.  Oh  my  people  what  have  I  done  that  you 
will  not  love  me?  What  more  ought  I  to  do"? 
My  soul  grieves  for  you  because  you  are  blind  in 
your  hearts,  but  in  what  have  I  afflicted  you  that 
you  will  not  see?" 

The  sweat  poured  down  his  face,  and  he  wiped 
it  off  with  his  sleeve. 

"I  have  shown  men  the  way  of  life,  but  they 
will  not  have  me  as  their  king.  They  have  chosen 
hate,  not  love,  and  how  shall  I  save  them  from 
the  agony  that  must  come  upon  them'?  They 
know  not  what  they  do.  It  is  not  me  they  re 
ject,  but  God." 

When  he  had  said  this  he  went  forward  and 
stood  and  leaned  his  hand  on  the  wall,  looking 
out  over  the  Wilderness.  The  deep  blue  of  the 
Dead  Sea  was  black  now,  and  grey  clouds  cov 
ered  the  Mountains  of  Moab.  The  red  glow  still 
lingered  over  Jerusalem.  Then  it  too  died  away, 
and  darkness  was  upon  us. 

Jesus  stood  there  silent,  watching  the  colour 
die  from  the  earth,  and  I  stood  behind  him,  silent 
also,  waiting.  When  he  spoke  again  I  saw  that 
he  was  far  from  me. 

"It  is  defeat,"  he  said.  "Even  those  whom 
God  has  given  me  have  not  seen  my  meaning.  I 


190  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

am  to  be  reckoned  among  the  lawless.  But  the 
world  is  not  left  without  a  judge,  for  when  men 
understand  the  message  they  will  judge  them 
selves,  and  in  sorrow  will  unite  to  bring  the  king 
dom  to  pass.  Hate  cannot  be  triumphant.  It  is 
too  feeble.  It  has  none  save  itself  to  rejoice  in 
victory.  But  love,  being  born  of  God,  is  strong 
and  courageous  to  suffer.  I  fail,  but  others  will 
conquer,  for  God  yet  liveth." 

A  tawny  owl  swept  out  from  under  the  dark 
trees,  and  swooped  past  into  the  valley  seeking 
its  meat.  Jesus  watched  its  flight,  and  then  he 
said, 

"The  world  is  beautiful,  and  it  is  hard  to  die. 
I  have  seen  death  come  to  other  men,  and  now  it 
comes  to  me.  I  cannot  put  aside  that  fear.  It  is 
a  way  that  all  must  pass,"  and  then  he  turned  to 
me  and  said, 

"I  go  apart  alone.  No  man  can  help  me  now, 
but  surely  God  will  listen?" 

And  he  left  me  and  went  away  across  the  open, 
and  passed  into  the  shadow  under  the  crooked 
boughs  of  the  olives. 

I  sat  there  under  the  wall  listening  to  the  noises 
of  the  night.  The  brown  owls  swept  like  ghosts 
across  the  open,  and  one  by  one  the  stars  came  out 
and  shone  in  the  firmament  above  me.  I  must 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  191 

have  slept,  for,  suddenly,  I  started  and  sprang  to 
my  feet,  feeling  that  time  had  passed  and  that 
something  was  about  to  happen.  The  brown  owls 
had  gone,  and  all  was  quiet.  I  straine'd  my  eyes 
across  the  valley  to  where  the  great  wall  of  the 
Temple  rose  in  the  darkness,  and  beyond  the  wall, 
in  the  Courts  of  the  Temple,  I  saw  lights  appear 
one  by  one  and  move  to  and  fro  as  if  carried  by 
men.  There  came  a  glare  of  torches,  and  of  a 
sudden  the  lights  went  out  and  in  a  moment  came 
again,  this  time  with  the  wall  behind  them.  They 
had  passed  the  gate. 

A  step  sounded  near  by,  and  Jesus  stood  beside 
me,  tall  in  the  dim  light. 

"See,"  he  said,  "they  are  coming  out  to  take 
me.  Let  us  be  going."  And  then  he  said, 

"This  will  be  farewell,"  and  he  kissed  me  and 
led  the  way  down  the  mountain,  and  I,  dazed, 
followed  him. 

Near  the  bottom  of  the  garden,  in  a  dip  of  the 
hill,  we  found  Peter  and  James  and  John  asleep, 
and  Jesus  waked  them. 

"I  would  you  could  sleep  on  and  take  your 
rest,"  he  said.  "But  the  hour  has  come  and  Judas 
is  at  hand." 

The  clatter  of  armed  men  rose  from  the  steep 
valley,  and  the  lights  disappeared  in  the  hollow 
where  the  brook  Kedron  ran.  Jesus  went  for- 


192  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

ward  down  the  narrow  path,  and  we  went  after 
him.  He  stopped  in  a  place  where  the  olive  trees 
thinned,  and  we  stood  round  him.  In  a  moment 
the  lights  appeared  again,  held  high,  to  let  the 
men  see  their  steps.  The  glare  of  the  torches  lit 
up  the  face  of  the  foremost  man,  and  showed  him 
to  be  one  of  the  officers  of  the  Temple.  Close  be 
hind  came  Judas  Iscariot.  The  officer,  seeing  us 
waiting,  paused  in  uncertainty,  and  made  a  step 
towards  James,  but  Judas  muttered,  "No,  not 
him,"  and  coming  up  to  Jesus  stooped  and  took 
his  hand  as  if  to  kiss  it.  Jesus  laid  his  hand  on 
his  arm,  and  looked  him  in  the  eyes.  Then  he 
leant  forward  and  kissed  Judas  on  the  cheek. 

"Friend,"  he  said,  "do  what  you  have  come 
for." 

Then  the  men  came  and  took  hold  of  Jesus  and 
held  him  firmly,  and  at  that  Peter,  excited,  thrust 
forward  with  a  great  sword  in  his  hand.  But 
Jesus  said  sternly, 

"Put  up  that  sword,  Peter.  Have  I  not  told 
you  that  they  that  trust  to  the  sword  shall  perish 
by  the  sword?" 

At  his  rebuke  Peter  fell  back,  and  Jesus  said 
to  the  officers  of  the  Temple, 

"Why  have  you  come  out  with  swords  and 
staves  to  take  me  as  if  I  were  a  robber?  Have  I 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  193 

not  taught  openly  day  by  day  in  the  Temple,  and 
yet  you  did  not  arrest  me4?" 

The  men  did  not  answer,  and  Jesus  said  no 
more,  but  went  with  them  down  the  hill,  and 
Peter  and  I  followed.  But  Judas  stayed  behind 
in  the  olive  garden. 


XVIII 

THE  men  led  Jesus  by  way  of  the  path  out 
side  the  south  wall  to  the  house  of  the  High 
Priest  on  Mount  Zion.  It  was  past  midnight. 
Balilla,  the  woman  who  kept  the  gate,  opened  it, 
and  the  men  brought  Jesus  into  the  courtyard.  I 
spoke  to  her  (for  she  knew  me),  and  she  let  me 
follow  with  Peter.  When  we  were  inside  the 
gate  the  men  began  to  debate  whether  it  was 
Annas  or  Caiaphas  for  whom  they  had  to  ask,  and 
one  said  where  was  Judas  Iscariot,  who  knew.  But 
Judas  was  not  there,  so  they  agreed  to  ask  for 
the  High  Priest  only  and  leave  it  to  the  servants 
to  decide  between  Annas  and  Caiaphas.  Then 
they  took  Jesus  across  the  courtyard  to  the  door 
of  the  house  where  they  were  told  that  the  High 
Priest  slept. 

"We  had  orders  to  bring  this  man  before  him," 
said  the  Chief  of  the  Temple  officials. 

"Wait,  then,  till  I  rouse  the  High  Priest,"  said 
the  servant,  and  the  men  took  Jesus  apart  into 
a  corner  of  the  courtyard  where  they  guarded 
him  so  that  none  could  come  to  speech  of  him. 

194 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  195 

The  servants  of  the  High  Priest  came  out  from 
the  house  to  stare  at  Jesus  and  to  ask  curious 
questions  of  the  men,  and  soon  there  came  a  cry 
from  the  doorway  that  Annas  waited  within,  and 
the  men  hastily  rose  and  led  Jesus  inside,  and  as 
many  of  us  as  could  crowded  after  him. 

Annas  sat  in  the  inner-room.  The  men  led 
Jesus  before  him  and  stationed  him  there  with 
the  Temple  officials  on  either  side  of  him.  The 
High  Priest  (as  some  still  held  him  to  be)  was 
old  and  bent.  The  skin  on  his  bony  hands  was 
the  soft,  wrinkled  skin  of  the  aged,  and  his  voice 
was  cracked  and  wavering.  He  began  to  question 
the  men  as  to  who  Jesus  was  and  why  they  had 
taken  him,  and  when  they  had  answered  he  turned 
to  Jesus. 

"What  have  you  to  say  for  yourself?"  he  asked. 
"You  are  accused  of  breaking  the  law.  Have  you 
any  excuse  to  offer1?" 

Jesus  looked  steadily  at  the  old  man,  and  said, 
"You  know  it  is  against  the  law  for  you  to  ques 
tion  me  thus  in  private  and  at  this  hour.  Where 
are  those  who  are  to  witness  against  me?" 

At  this  Annas  fell  into  a  perturbation  and 
moved  his  hands  uneasily  to  and  fro,  playing  with 
the  fringes  of  his  garments,  as  if  he  did  not  know 
what  to  do.  The  men  seeing  his  hesitation  looked 
one  at  another  as  if  they,  too,  were  disturbed. 


196  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

Annas  had  all  his  life  carried  out  the  law,  and  the 
Temple  officials  had  obeyed  his  orders  and  they 
knew  that  Jesus  was  in  the  right.  The  law  for 
bade  trial  for  life  unless  in  full  daylight,  openly 
before  the  Council,  and  with  all  those  witnesses 
present  who  were  to  accuse  the  prisoner. 

At  last  Annas  said, 

"I  do  not  know  about  this  business,  for  Caia- 
phas  has  it  in  hand.  He  ought  to  have  been 
brought  before  Caiaphas." 

There  was  a  note  of  complaint  in  his  voice, 
and  growing  more  certain  as  he  saw  a  way  out  of 
his  difficulty,  he  said  with  decision, 

"Yes.  Take  him  to  Caiaphas."  And  then  as 
the  men  turned  to  lead  Jesus  away,  he  added, 

"It  would  be  better  to  bind  him  lest  he  escape. 
Bind  him  now  and  take  him  away." 

Some  one  brought  a  cord  and  the  men  bound 
Jesus.  Then,  making  obeisance  to  Annas,  they 
led  Jesus  to  the  Hall  of  Caiaphas,  where  the 
Council  sometimes  met,  and  which  adjoined  the 
house  of  the  High  Priest.  Here  we  waited.  And 
in  a  short  time  Caiaphas  entered  and  took  his  seat 
at  the  head  of  the  room.  His  mien  was  that  of 
a  man  who  has  made  up  his  mind,  and  his  voice 
was  hard  and  determined  as  he  called  for  the 
prisoner  to  be  led  forward.  The  men  brought 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  197 

Jesus  forward  alertly  as  if  the  certainty  in  the 
mien  of  Caiaphas  gave  them  security  also. 

Caiaphas  fixed  his  hawk's  eyes  on  Jesus,  and 
looked  him  up  and  down,  examining  the  disorder 
of  his  clothing  where  the  rope  bound  his  arms 
tightly  to  his  sides.  Then  he  said, 

"You  are  called  Jesus  of  Nazareth,  I  believe1?" 
and  Jesus  answered, 

"I  am  he." 

Caiaphas  went  on. 

"You  claim  to  be  a  prophet  and  to  have  a  mes 
sage  for  the  world*?  And  you  alone1?  Where  are 
your  followers'?" 

Jesus  did  not  reply.  His  eyes  met  those  of  the 
High  Priest  gravely  and  sadly,  but  he  made  no 
answer,  and  Caiaphas,  irritated,  demanded, 

"Are  you  aware  that  you  are  here  to  answer 
with  your  life  for  the  harm  that  you  have  done1? 
Do  you  refuse  to  reply  when  I  question  you  as  to 
your  teaching?" 

Jesus  answered  gently, 

"I  never  taught  in  secret.  I  spoke  openly  to 
all  the  world.  I  taught  always  in  public  places, 
in  the  synagogues,  and  in  the  Courts  of  the  Temple 
where  the  Jews  meet  daily." 

There  came  a  certain  sternness  into  his  voice, 
and  he  asked, 

"Why  do  you  question  me?    It  is  illegal.    Ask 


198  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

those  who  heard  me  teach.  They  know  what  I 
said." 

A  great  anger  flamed  into  the  face  of  Caiaphas 
and  he  half  rose  from  his  seat.  Seeing  this,  one 
of  the  officials  raised  his  hand  and  struck  Jesus  a 
blow  on  the  mouth. 

"How  dare  you  answer  the  High  Priest  so1?" 
he  said. 

The  blood  ran  down  the  face  of  Jesus  and  he 
could  not  wipe  it  off  because  his  arms  were  bound, 
but  he  answered  without  resentment, 

"If  I  have  taught  what  is  wrong  bring  witness 
to  give  evidence  against  me  openly  before  the 
Council.  If  I  am  right  in  asking  this,  why  do  you 
smite  me?" 

At  this  Caiaphas  fell  into  a  rage,  and  motion 
ing  to  the  men,  said  grimly, 

"Take  him  away.  He  shall  have  his  witnesses. 
Lead  him  outside  now  and  guard  him,  and  they 
shall  be  found  and  the  Council  called." 

So  the  men  took  Jesus  into  the  courtyard  and 
led  him  to  the  corner-seat  where  they  had  guarded 
him  before,  and  before  they  had  well  settled  down 
again  we  saw  the  messengers  go  forth  from  Caia 
phas. 

"They  go  for  the  witnesses,"  said  one  of  the 
officials,  and  the  others  laughed  and  said  that  Caia 
phas  was  not  one  to  let  the  grass  grow  under  his 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  199 

feet,  and  then  they  called  to  the  servants  saying 
that  the  night  was  cold;  so  the  servants  brought 
out  a  brazier  and  charcoal  for  a  fire  at  which  the 
men  could  warm  themselves.  They  all  stood  near 
Jesus  in  the  firelight  and  talked,  but  Jesus  sat 
silent,  his  face  white,  save  where  the  blood  had 
dried  upon  it. 

"The  cheek  of  him  asking  for  witnesses!"  said 
one  of  the  men.  "You  would  think  he  was  a  great 
lord  the  way  he  spoke.'  And  another  said, 

"Caiaphas  will  soon  show  him  his  place.  What 
is  he  but  a  peasant,  no  better  than  us?"  And  sud 
denly  one  of  the  men  came  close  to  Jesus,  and 
said, 

"Why  don't  you  play  the  prophet  if  you  are  a 
prophet4?"  and  he  winked  at  one  of  his  companions 
who  struck  Jesus  a  quick  blow  on  the  back  of  the 
head,  and  cried  out,  "Who  struck  you?  If  you 
are  a  prophet  tell  us." 

I  started  forward,  but  Balilla,  the  portress,  who 
stood  beside  me,  caught  me  by  the  arm. 

"You  will  do  no  good,"  she  whispered.  "He  is 
in  their  power.  You  will  only  make  it  worse  for 
him." 

I  saw  that  it  was  true  and  that  I  could  do  noth 
ing.  I  stood  with  a  great  bitterness  in  my  soul 
and  watched  while  the  men  tied  a  kerchief  round 


200  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

the  eyes  of  Jesus  and  then  played  their  game,  one 
after  the  other  buffeting  him  and  calling  out, 

"Come !    Play  the  prophet.    Who  struck  you4?" 

Now  whether  it  was  that  time  hung  heavy  on 
her  hands,  or  whether  for  pity  for  Jesus  she  wished 
to  make  a  diversion  I  know  not,  but  Balilla  began 
to  question  Peter,  who  sat  by  the  fire,  and  I  heard 
him  answer  in  his  gruff  voice.  Soon  they  fell  into 
a  dispute,  and  I  heard  her  say, 

"But  surely  you  also  are  one  of  his  followers?" 

Peter  answered  in  confusion, 

"What  do  you  mean?    I  don't  understand." 

And  she  asked, 

"Were  you  not  also  with  this  Jesus,  the  Gali 
lean?' 

The  men,  who  had  grown  tired  of  their  game, 
now  plucked  the  kerchief  from  the  eyes  of  Jesus 
and  pressed  round  to  listen,  and  one  said  to  Peter, 

"Of  course  you  belong  to  them.  You  are  a 
Galilean  too.  Just  listen  to  your  accent." 

And  Peter  hastily  replied, 

"I  am  not  one  of  them." 

The  official  who  had  arrested  Jesus  came  for 
ward  to  stir  the  fire,  and  said: 

"But  I  myself  saw  you  in  the  garden  with  him." 
And  at  that  Peter,  cursing,  rose  and  said, 

"I  tell  you  I  do  not  even  know  the  man." 

The  charcoal  in  the  brazier  glowing  more  bright- 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  201 

ly  for  a  moment  lit  up  the  faces  of  those  round  the 
fire  and  fell  on  the  sad  eyes  of  Jesus,  who  sat 
watching  Peter.  Peter,  as  if  moved  by  some  in 
ner  force,  turned  and  looked  at  Jesus.  I  know 
not  what  passed  between  them,  but  suddenly  Petel 
put  his  forearm  up  as  a  man  does  who  shields  his 
eyes  from  the  blinding  of  the  sun,  and  then  he 
spun  round,  and  stumbling  went  across  the  court 
yard.  I  caught  him  in  the  gateway.  The  light 
of  the  lantern  fell  on  his  face  as  he  fumbled  with 
the  latch.  From  his  eyes  with  their  red  rims 
his  soul  looked  forth  as  from  a  prison  and  the 
tears  were  streaming  down  his  cheeks. 

"I  boasted,"  he  cried.  "And  he  said  I  should 
forsake  him.  But  I  followed,  though  I  was  afraid. 
You  saw  for  yourself  that  I  followed.  And  now 
I  have  denied  him.  Let  me  go.  Let  me  go.  I 
must  be  alone." 

So  I  released  him  and  he  went. 

By  this  time  it  was  near  daylight,  and  soon 
there  came  more  stir  as  members  of  the  Council 
began  to  pass  through  the  courtyard,  and  the  mes 
sengers  returned  guarding  those  who  were  to  wit 
ness  against  Jesus.  It  was  full  day  when  the  or 
der  came  to  bring  Jesus  again  into  the  Hall  of 
Caiaphas. 

Here  Caiaphas  was  waiting,  sitting  in  the  high 
seat  of  the  Judge,  and  ranged  in  a  half-circle  on 


202  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

either  side  of  him  sat  the  Council.  It  was  not 
the  full  Council,  but  only  some  of  the  members, 
and  among  them  few  whom  I  knew,  save  Joseph 
of  Arimathea,  who  came  late  and  in  haste.  Jesus 
was  stood  in  the  place  of  the  prisoner  and  the  wit 
nesses  were  brought  forward.  Then  Caiaphas 
rose,  and  with  him  rose  the  members  of  the  Coun 
cil,  for  the  oath  was  to  be  taken  by  the  witnesses. 

The  High  Priest  took  the  roll  of  the  law  from 
the  official  who  held  it  ready,  and  unrolling  it, 
he  read  aloud  that  great  warning  to  those  about 
to  bear  witness. 

"Forget  not,  O  witness,  that  this  is  a  trial  for 
life.  In  a  money  suit,  if  thy  witness  be  wrong 
money  may  repair  that  wrong.  But  in  this  trial, 
if  thou  sin,  the  blood  of  the  accused  and  the  blood . 
of  his  seed  to  the  end  of  time  shall  be  imputed  to 
thee.  For  a  man  from  one  seal  may  strike  off 
many  impressions  and  each  of  them  shall  be 
exactly  like  the  other.  But  the  King  of  Kings, 
the  Holy  and  the  Blessed  has  made  the  forms  of  all 
men  so  that  no  one  is  wholly  like  to  any  other. 
Wherefore  let  us  believe  that  the  world  was  cre 
ated  for  such  a  man  as  he  whose  life  now  hangs 
upon  thy  words." 

The  witnesses  listened,  standing  in  a  little 
group.  Their  eyes  wandered  as  they  started  round 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  203 

the  Hall  and  one  man  picked  his  teeth  with  a 
pin. 

Caiaphas,  having  finished  this  reading,  asked 
the  men  if  after  hearing  these  words  they  felt  able 
to  swear,  and  an  official  whispering  to  them,  they 
Stood  in  more  order  and  repeated  one  after  the 
Other, 

"I  will  nevertheless  swear,"  and  prompted  by 
the  official,  added, 

"By  the  Lord,  the  God  of  Heaven." 

Then  Caiaphas  read  aloud, 

"Be  warned  that  the  oath  which  you  take  is 
not  according  to  your  own  mind  but  to  the  mind 
of  God  and  of  this  Court.  As  Moses  said,  'Not 
with  you  only  do  I  make  this  Covenant  and  this 
oath,  but  with  God  who  standeth  here  with  us 
mis  day.'  " 

After  this  the  witnesses  swore  'ind  then  they 
began  to  give  evidence.  But  the  evidence  did  not 
agree.  If  one  man  witnessed  that  Jesus  had  said 
he  was  the  Messiah,  another  said  No,  he  said  he 
was  to  be  King  of  the  Jews,  and  so  they  went  on, 
one  saying  one  thing  and  the  next  a  different, 
till  it  seemed  as  if  there  was  no  end  to  their  dif 
ferences.  The  brows  of  Caiaphas  knitted  them 
selves  and  the  members  of  the  Council  grew  woi- 
ried,  but  no  progress  was  made.  At  last  there 


204  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

came  two  men  who  witnessed  that  they  had  them 
selves  heard  Jesus  speak  in  the  Courts  of  the 
Temple  and  that  he  had  claimed  magical  powers, 
saying,  "I  will  destroy  this  Temple  made  with 
hands  and  in  three  days  I  will  build  another  made 
without  hands." 

When  the  High  Priest  heard  this  he  said  to 
Jesus, 

"What  is  the  meaning  of  this  that  these  men 
witness  against  you*?  Do  you  still  answer  noth 
ing?" 

But  Jesus  held  his  peace,  and  Joseph  of  Ari- 
mathea  rose  in  his  place,  and  spoke,  and  because 
of  the  respect  in  which  men  held  him  Caiaphas 
dare  not  stop  him. 

"The  prisoner  is  right  in  refusing  to  answer. 
The  law  does  not  allow  such  cross-examination. 
It  leans  always  to  mercy  and  urges  any  member 
of  the  Council  who  can  do  so  to  speak  in  favour 
of  the  accused.  Therefore  I  say  that  the  words 
of  Jesus  were  in  this  wise.  That  if  the  Temple 
made  with  hands  was  pulled  down,  God  could 
still  be  worshipped  in  the  soul  of  man,  a  sanctuary 
built  without  hands.  For  Solomon  himself,  the 
builder  of  the  Temple,  said,  'Will  God  indeed 
dwell  in  this  Temple4?  Behold!  the  Heaven  of 
Heavens  cannot  contain  Him,  much  less  this  house 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  205 

that  I  have  builded.'  Jesus  taught  that  there  is 
that  which  is  greater  than  any  Temple,  and  that 
God  asks  men  to  give  mercy  not  sacrifices.  I  main 
tain  that  these  witnesses  misunderstood,  and  that 
as  no  two  testimonies  agree  together  the  Prisoner 
must  be  dismissed." 

At  this  Caiaphas  was  seized  with  passion,  and 
casting  all  law  aside  he  sprang  to  his  feet  and 
cried  out  to  Jesus, 

"I  adjure  you  by  the  name  of  the  Most  High 
that  you  tell  us  whether  you  are  the  Messiah,  the 
Son  of  the  Blessed?" 

And  Jesus  answered, 

"If  I  tell  you  you  will  not  believe  me.  Nor  if 
I  question  you  in  my  own  defence  will  you  re 
lease  me." 

Then  Caiaphas  called  out, 

"Are  you  the  Son  of  God?" 

And  Jesus  said, 

"You  say  that  I  am." 

Caiaphas  caught  his  outer  garment  and  tore  it 
straight  from  throat  to  hem,  crying  out  to  the 
Council, 

"He  has  spoken  blasphemy.  What  further 
need  is  there  for  witnesses?  Behold!  you  have 
all  heard  him.  What  think  you?  Is  he  worthy 
of  death?" 

The  members  of  the  Council  rose  to  their  feet, 


206  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

and  Caiaphas  in  haste  turned  to  the  right  and  put 
the  question  to  the  first  man, 

"For  death  or  for  life1?"  And  the  man  an 
swered, 

"For  death." 

And  so  they  all  replied,  save  Joseph  of  Ari- 
mathea,  who  answered, 

"For  life." 

Then  the  whole  company  of  them  rose  up  and 
brought  Jesus  to  Pilate. 


XIX 

JERUSALEM  was  awake  when  Caiaphas  and 
the  Council  went  forth  from  the  courtyard 
with  Jesus.  The  people  seeing  the  High  Priest 
and  a  prisoner  guarded  by  the  officials  of  the  Tem 
ple  were  curious  to  know  what  had  happened,  and 
many  of  them  followed  us  to  the  Prsetorium.  The 
Romans  had  made  their  Government  House  of 
the  palace  that  Herod  had  built  for  himself  on 
the  north-west  hill,  and  here,  protected  by  the 
city  walls  and  by  its  three  great  towers,  in  the 
midst  of  gardens  and  groves  and  courts,  Pilate 
lodged  when  he  was  in  Jerusalem.  On  the  lowest 
terrace  of  the  hill,  below  the  banqueting  halls 
and  colonnades  of  the  Palace,  was  the  Roman 
Tribunal.  A  row  of  broad,  shallow  steps  led  from 
the  Place  to  its  wide  portico,  and  Caiaphas  halted 
almost  under  the  shadow  of  the  marble  pillars. 
At  his  order  one  of  the  servants  of  the  Temple 
called  aloud,  and  in  answer  a  Roman  soldier  came 
out  of  the  Tribunal  into  the  portico  and  stood 
looking  down  on  us.  The  bare  knees  that  showed 
beneath  his  kilted  petticoat  and  the  beardless  face 

207 


208  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

under  the  shining  helmet  marked  him  as  of 
another  race  than  ours,  and  there  was  some  inso 
lence  in  the  way  he  glanced  up  and  down  our 
ranks,  and  seeing  Jesus  bound  called  out  "Bring 
the  prisoner  into  the  Judgment  Hall.  My  lord 
Pilate  is  at  work  within." 

The  official  of  the  Temple  answered,  "We  can 
not  enter  the  Judgment  Hall.  It  is  the  Eve  of 
the  Passover  and  we  should  be  denied." 

The  soldier,  puzzled,  looked  for  a  moment  as 
if  he  were  about  to  laugh,  and  at  that  Caiaphas 
himself  stepped  forward  and  said  peremptorily, 
"Tell  the  Procurator  that  the  High  Priest  waits 
without." 

Whereupon  the  manner  of  the  soldier  changed, 
and  he  turned  swiftly  and  went  within. 

The  people  had  thronged  behind  us  and  the 
Place  was  now  full,  but  there  was  silence  save 
for  the  sound  of  their  movements  as  we  waited  for 
Pilate.  Soon  we  heard  the  ring  of  steps  on  the 
marble  pavement  and  the  Roman  guard  marched 
out  and  ranged  itself.  Then  Pilate  came  forth 
from  the  Judgment  Hall.  The  guard  saluted  as 
he  passed  into  the  portico,  but  there  was  no  an 
swering  cheer  from  the  crowd.  Even  when  he 
came  forward  and  stood  on  the  top  of  the  steps 
the  hostile  throng  before  him  was  silent. 

Pilate  was  in  his  soldier's  dress  but  bare  headed. 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  209 

His  short,  black  hair  and  shaven  face  with  its 
keen  eyes  showed  that  he,  too,  like  the  soldier 
was  of  another  and  more  masterful  breed  than 
the  Jews.  As  his  eyes  searched  our  faces  there 
was  no  insolence  in  his  gaze,  but  neither  was  there 
any  friendliness.  It  was  the  cool  scrutiny  of  a 
conqueror  weighing  the  force  of  the  conquered. 
When  he  caught  sight  of  Caiaphas  he  greeted  him 
with  courtesy,  and  the  High  Priest  returned  the 
greeting,  saying 

"It  is  the  Eve  of  the  Passover,  Pilate.  We  can 
not  enter  the  Palace." 

"It  was  for  that  reason  I  came  out.  I  know 
your  customs,"  said  Pilate. 

"We  have  brought  a  prisoner  to  you  for  judg 
ment,"  said  Caiaphas. 

"Is  not  judgment  also  forbidden  you  on  the  eve 
of  your  feasts?"  Pilate  asked. 

"This  is  a  special  case,"  Caiaphas  said  harshly, 
and  Pilate  answered  urbanely, 

"That  is  for  you  to  decide,"  and  he  gave  orders 
that  the  judgment  seat  be  brought,  and  when  the 
soldiers  had  brought  it  from  the  Judgment  Hall 
and  placed  it  in  the  portico  in  sight  of  all  the  peo 
ple,  he  took 'his  seat.  Then  commanding  silence 
(for  before  he  was  well  seated  the  Priests  had  be 
gun  to  accuse  Jesus)  the  Procurator  ordered  the 
officials  of  the  Temple  to  bring  Jesus  forward  to 


210  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

where  he  could  face  his  accusers.  The  men  cleared 
a  space  and  Jesus  came  forward.  He  showed  no 
sign  of  fear,  nor  was  his  bearing  that  of  one  who 
pleads.  His  face  was  tranquil  and  his  eyes  calm. 
Pilate  watched  him  for  a  moment  with  interest, 
and  then  he  turned  to  the  High  Priest  and  Rulers 
and,  intent  on  the  business  in  hand,  asked  form- 
ally, 

"What  accusation  do  you  bring  against  this 
man?" 

Caiaphas  replied  sharply,  "If  he  were  not  a 
criminal  we  should  not  have  brought  him  to  you . 
He  has  spoken  blasphemy." 

Pilate  looked  at  the  High  Priest  coldly. 

"Why  then  do  you  not  take  him  yourselves  and 
judge  him  according  to  your  own  laws'?  You  have 
the  power." 

The  High  Priest  answered, 

"It  is  a  capital  charge  and  we  have  no  power 
to  put  him  to  death." 

"Of  what  do  you  accuse  him?"  Pilate  again 
asked. 

"He  says  he  is  our  Messiah,  the  Son  of  the 
Blessed,"  said  the  High  Priest. 

Pilate  shrugged  his  shoulders. 

"I  have  told  you  that  that  is  not -a  question 
for  Roman  law.  You  have  power  to  judge  your 
own  heresies." 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  211 

At  this  a  turmoil  broke  out  amongst  the  friends 
of  the  High  Priest  and  they  all  began  to  speak  at 
once,  accusing  Jesus  of  every  manner  of  crime, 
so  that  it  was  impossible  to  hear  clearly  even  what 
accusations  they  were  bringing. 

Pilate  made  an  effort  to  restore  order,  but  no 
man  heeded,  and  so  he  sat  listening  contemptu 
ously,  waiting  for  the  speakers  to  exhaust  them 
selves.  His  eyes  wandered  to  where  Jesus  stood, 
listening  also,  but  without  contempt.  The  in 
terest  in  Pilate's  eyes  quickened  as  he  looked  at 
him,  and  suddenly  he  turned  to  the  priests  and 
.fiercely  commanded  them  to  be  silent.  Before  his 
decision  the  tumult  ceased  and,  when  there  was 
silence,  Pilate  spoke  to  Jesus,  and  there  was  much 
irony  in  his  voice  as  he  asked, 

c'Do  you  not  hear  the  number  of  heresies  they 
accuse  you  of?  Have  you  no  wish  to  reply1?" 

Jesus  shook  his  head  but  made  no  other  answer, 
and  Caiaphas  stood  forth  from  amongst  the  priests 
and  rulers  and  said, 

"It  is  not  for  a  crime  of  heresy  that  we  bring 
him  before  you,  but  for  a  crime  of  State." 

"Then  why  did  you  say  it  was  for  blasphemy?" 
Pilate  asked  Caiaphas  sternly. 

For  a  moment  the  hidden  enmity  between  them 
leapt  into  light,  but  Caiaphas  controlled  his  anger 
and  said, 


212  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

"He  has  committed  blasphemy  against  our  law, 
but  we  have  brought  him  to  you  because  we 
found  him  preaching  sedition  against  the  Em 
peror,  saying  that  he  himself  is  our  King." 

At  this  Pilate,  amazed,  turned  again  to  Jesus 
and  examined  him  carefully,  looking  at  the  dis 
order  of  his  garments  and  the  blood  and  dust 
upon  his  face.  Then,  half  smiling,  as  if  he 
doubted  whether  the  accusation  was  serious,  he 
said  to  Caiaphas, 

"Do  you  say  that  this  man  claims  to  be  a 
King?"  and  Caiaphas  answered,  lying, 

"He  has  prevented  people  paying  taxes  to  the 
Emperor  and  says  that  he  is  the  King  of  the 
Jews." 

Again  Pilate  looked  upon  Jesus,  and  Jesus 
gravely  returned  his  gaze.  Then  Pilate  said, 

"If  this  is  true  I  will  question  him  inside  the 
Judgment  Hall."  And  rising  he  called  the  cen 
turion  in  charge  of  the  guard  and  told  him  to 
bring  Jesus  within.  So  the  officers  of  the  Temple 
handed  Jesus  over  to  the  soldiers  and  he  passed 
from  the  power  of  the  priests  to  that  of  the  Ro 
man  Emperor. 

I  went  into  the  Hall  behind  the  soldiers  and 
saw  Pilate  take  his  seat.  He  commanded  the 
centurion  to  loose  Jesus,  and  when  this  was  done 
and  Jesus  stood  free  before  him,  Pilate  said, 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  213 

"Are  you  the  King  of  the  Jews'?" 

Jesus  was  silent.  His  eyes  were  bent  on  Pilate 
consideringly,  and  he  scanned  his  face  questioning 
the  Procurator  as  to  what  manner  of  man  he  was. 
Pilate  waited  a  moment  and  then  asked  with 
curiosity,  "Do  you  refuse  to  answer  me  also?  Do 
you  not  know  that  I  have  power  to  release  you 
and  power  to  put  you  to  death?" 

Jesus  answered  gently, 

"You  would  have  no  power  whatever  over  me 
if  it  had  not  been  given  you  by  God." 

'  "Is  it  true  that  you  claim  to  be  the  King  of 
the  Jews?"  Pilate  persisted,  and  Jesus  asked, 

"Do  you  mean  what  the  Priests  do,  or  are  you 
speaking  as  a  Roman?" 

"Am  I  a  Jew?"  Pilate  replied  scornfully. 
"Your  own  nation  and  your  Chief  Priest  have  de 
livered  you  to  me.  What  have  you  done?" 

Theij  Jesus  answered  straightly, 

"My  kingdom  is  not  of  this  earth.  If  it  had 
been  my  servants  would  have  fought  for  my  de 
liverance.  But  my  kingly  power  was  not  given 
me  by  this  world." 

Pilate  leant  forward. 

"Then  you  are  a  king?"  he  said,  and  Jesus 
smiling  answered  sadly, 

"You  say  that  I  am  King,  and  it  is  true.  But 
it  is  not  as  this  world  reckons  kingship.  Every 


214  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

one  who  loves  the  truth  is  of  my  kingdom.  For 
one  end  only  was  I  born,  for  that  only  have  I 
come,  that  I  might  testify  to  the  truth." 

Pilate's  eyes  were  fixed  on  the  face  of  Jesus 
and  for  a  while  some  manner  of  understanding 
seemed  to  grow  in  him,  for  he  said  half  impa 
tiently,  half  wistfully, 

"What  is  the  truth4?"  Then,  with  a  shrug  of 
the  shoulders,  not  waiting  for  a  reply,  he  rose, 
saying:  "Truth  is  like  your  kingdom.  It  is  not  on 
this  earth."  And  leaving  Jesus  he  went  alone  into 
the  portico  and  stood  before  the  waiting  priests 
and  the  silent  hostile  crowd,  and  called  out,  with 
decision,  "I  find  no  crime  in  this  man." 

When  the  priests  and  rulers  heard,  they  broke 
out  into  tumult  greater  than  before,  and  the 
crowd  following  their  leaders  shouted  also,  for 
though  many  of  them  had  never  seen  Jesus  before 
and  did  not  care  what  happened  to  him,  they  were 
all  against  the  Roman  Governor.  Pilate  waited, 
listening  to  the  uproar,  and  when  there  came  a  lull 
he  said  again, 

"There  is  no  crime  in  him." 

Caiaphas  answered  boldly, 

"You  are  mistaken,  Pilate.  The  man  may  have 
imposed  himself  on  you,  but  he  is  a  dangerous 
rebel.  He  is  preaching  sedition  all  over  Judea. 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  215 

It  is  a  serious  matter  and  there  will  be  trouble 
if  you  do  not  take  him  in  hand." 

Pilate  listened  with  a  frown  and  then  asked, 
shrewdly,  "Why  should  I  slay  him  for  you*?" 

"Because  you  have  taken  away  our  power  and 
we  cannot  slay  him  ourselves,"  said  Caiaphas, 
bitterly.  And  at  that  the  people  burst  into  such 
a  roar  of  applause  that  even  Pilate  was  startled. 
When  the  roar  died  away  he  said  impatiently, 

"The  man  is  only  a  dreamer.  Why  slay  him  at 
all?" 

And  Caiaphas  in  a  loud  voice  answered  (for  he 
wished  the  people  to  hear,  seeing  that  by  their 
help  he  might  overbear  Pilate), 

"Jesus  may  be  a  dreamer,  but  he  is  a  dangerous 
one.  He  has  come  here  to  raise  Judea.  He  began 
in  Galilee  and  all  the  people  followed  him  there." 

Pilate  interrupted  him. 

"Is  Jesus  a  Galilean?"  he  asked  quickly. 

"He  comes  from  Nazareth,  a  village  of  Gali 
lee,"  said  the  High  Priest. 

"Then  he  is  subject  to  Herod  Antipas.  Herod 
is  in  Jerusalem  now.  I  will  send  Jesus  to  him. 
He  shall  decide  his  fate,"  said  Pilate  triumphant 
ly,  and  regardless  of  the  anger  of  the  Priests  he 
called  for  Longinus  the  centurion,  and  for  a  clerk 
to  explain  the  matter  to  Herod.  The  centurion, 
forming  his  men,  placed  Jesus  in  their  midst,  and 


216  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

the  cohort  plunged  into  the  crowd,  ploughing  a 
way  for  itself.  The  people  surging  on  either  side 
closed  up  behind  the  soldiers,  and  Pilate  turned 
to  say  farewell  to  Caiaphas.  The  Priest,  his  eyes 
full  of  suspicion,  detained  him,  saying,  "Herod 
will  never  dare  pass  sentence  of  death  in  Jerusa 
lem,  the  Capital  of  the  Roman  dominion.  He  fears 
the  Emperor.  Was  it  for  that  you  sent  Jesus'?" 

"It  may  be  so,"  Pilate  answered  lightly,  look 
ing  down  on  him  from  the  steps. 

Then  Caiaphas,  heedless  of  courtesy,  threatened 
Pilate.  "Herod  will  send  him  back  to  you.  You 
must  judge  him.  If  you  release  him  you  are  no 
friend  to  Caesar." 

"I  am  no  friend  to  government  by  priests," 
said  Pilate  coldly.  And  Caiaphas  answered  an 
grily: 

"What  will  Rome  say  to  the  freeing  of  rebels 
if  the  Provinces  rise*?  Will  Caesar  balance  be 
tween  priest  and  soldier?  I  tell  you,  Pilate,  if 
you  slay  this  man  you  will  so  crush  sedition  that 
it  will  never  again  dare  to  raise  its  head  in  Judea." 

Pilate  paused  and  looked  at  Caiaphas.  There 
was  mockery  on  his  lips  as  if  he  marvelled  at  the 
Priest's  ignorance  of  the  arts  of  government. 
Then,  scoffing,  he  said,  "The  death  of  one  Jew"? 
Will  that  end  sedition?"  And  he  turned  on  his 
heel  and  went  into  the  Government  House. 


XX 

IT  was  as  Caiaphas  predicted.  Herod,  who 
lodged  in  the  Old  Palace  near  the  Temple, 
was  flattered  because  Pilate  had  remitted  the  case 
of  Jesus  to  him,  but  he  made  no  attempt  at  judg 
ment.  The  Priests  and  Rulers  (for  we  all  went 
into  the  Palace  at  the  tail  of  the  soldiers)  ac 
cused  Jesus  violently,  but  Herod  was  too  much 
interested  in  marvels  to  listen  to  them.  His  cu 
riosity  was  gratified  at  the  sight  of  Jesus  and  he 
asked  him  many  questions,  hoping  to  stir  him  to 
work  a  miracle,  but  Jesus  was  silent  before  him. 
Then  Herod  grew  flippant,  and  hearing  from  Pi 
late's  clerk  that  Jesus  claimed  to  be  King  of  the 
Jews,  he  sent  for  a  gorgeous  old  robe  and  dressed 
Jesus  in  it,  mocking  him,  and  amid  much  laughter 
ordered  the  king  to  be  sent  back  to  Pilate. 

So  the  centurion  brought  Jesus  back  to  the  Prse- 
torium.  The  Place  was  again  packed  with  people 
and  again  Pilate  came  out  to  the  portico.  He 
called  the  Priests  and  Rulers  and  the  leading  men 
in  the  crowd  to  the  front  and  there  addressed  them 
reasonably,  saying, 

217 


218  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

"You  brought  this  man  before  me  charged  with 
misleading  your  people,  but  when  I  examined  him 
I  found  no  ground  for  the  accusations  brought 
against  him.  Nor  does  Herod  find  him  to  blame, 
for  you  see  he  has  sent  him  back  to  me.  Jesus 
has  done  nothing  deserving  death.  I  will  there 
fore  give  him  a  slight  punishment  and  release 
him." 

But  the  whole  multitude  burst  into  a  shout, 

"Away  with  this  man!"  they  cried.  "If  you 
release  any,  release  Barabbas." 

Pilate  called  out, 

"Barabbas  is  a  robber,  but  what  harm  has  Jesus 
done?" 

The  mob  would  not  listen,  but  with  one  accord 
cried  out,  "Crucify  him!  Crucify  him!" 

Pilate  could  not  make  his  voice  heard  above 
the  uproar.  He  stood  patient  outwardly,  but  with 
an  ugly  look  in  his  eyes,  and  when  at  last  the 
noise  died  away  he  said,  with  a  bitter  sneer, 

"Would  you  have  me  crucify  your  king?" 

And  at  that  the  uproar  burst  out  worse  than 
before,  men  crying  in  fury, 

"We  will  not  have  him  as  our  king.  Belease 
to  us  Barabbas!" 

Pilate,  seeing  the  demon  that  he  had  raised, 
controlled  his  anger  and  made  an  attempt  to  re 
turn  to  reason,  saying,  "I  know  it  is  your  custom 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  219 

to  have  a  man  released  at  your  Festival.  There 
is  nothing  in  Jesus  that  deserves  death.  I  will 
therefore  scourge  him  and  set  him  free." 

But  the  mob  would  not  have  it  so.  The  voice 
of  Caiaphas  cried  high  above  the  clamour, 

"Any  man  who  sets  himself  up  as  king  is  a 
rebel  against  Csesar."  And  the  mob  took  this  up 
with  a  great  shout. 

"We  want  no  king  but  Caesar!" 

Then  Pilate,  enraged,  ordered  Jesus  to  be 
brought  into  the  portico,  and  Jesus,  dressed  in 
Herod's  old  robe,  with  his  face  covered  with  dust 
and  blood,  came  forward  and  stood  before  the 
people.  He  was  very  tired,  for  he  had  been  on 
his  feet  for  hours,  and  the  sight  of  his  white  face 
nearly  broke  my  heart.  Pilate  looked  at  him  in 
pity  and,  turning  with  contempt  to  the  mob,  said 
savagely,  "Behold  your  King!" 

There  was  a  storm  of  outcries  and  the  mob, 
furious  at  Pilate's  contempt  of  them,  raged  and 
yelled,  "Away  with  him!  He  is  not  our  king. 
Crucify  him!  Crucify  him!'v 
•  The  tumult  was  beyond  control.  The  guard 
moved  nearer  Pilate,  but  he  waved  them  back 
and  spoke  to  an  attendant,  and  the  man  went 
and  quickly  returned  bearing  a  silver  bowl  and 
a  towel.  At  Pilate's  command  he  held  these  up 


220  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

and  the  mob,  marvelling,  fell  into  silence.  Then 
Pilate,  in  sight  of  all  the  multitude,  washed  and 
dried  his  hands  and  throwing  the  towel  aside 
stepped  forward  and  said  to  the  crowd, 

"I  am  innocent  of  the  blood  of  this  just  man. 
See  you  to  it!" 

And  with  loud  shouts  of  triumph  the  people 
replied, 

"His  blood  be  on  us  and  on  our  children." 

The  judgment  seat  was  brought  out  again  and 
taking  his  seat  Pilate  delivered  Jesus  to  death. 
The  centurion,  whose  duty  it  was  to  see  the  pris 
oners  crucified,  asked  for  the  accusation  that  was 
put  over  the  heads  of  the  crucified,  and  the  clerk 
brought  Pilate's  tablets,  and  he  wrote.  The 
Priests  crowded  round  to  see  what  he  had  written, 
and  Pilate  in  scorn  read  to  them  his  writing, 

"Jesus  of  Nazareth,  King  of  the  Jews." 

Caiaphas  remonstrated,  saying: 

"There  is  no  accusation.  People  will  not  un 
derstand.  Do  not  write  'King  of  the  Jews,'  but 
'He  said  I  am  King  of  the  Jews.'  " 

But  Pilate  refused,  saying  bitterly,  "What  I 
have  written  I  have  written." 

He  ordered  the  centurion  to  have  it  so  tran 
scribed  on  the  Titulus,  and  then  he  gave  orders 
for  Barabbas  to  be  released,  and  went  away,  and 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  221 

the  centurion  and  his  soldiers  took  Jesus  and  led 
him  to  the  Roman  barracks  in  the  Tower  of  An- 
tonia,  which  was  north  of  the  buildings  of  the 
Temple. 


XXI 

IT  was  in  the  barrack  yard  of  the  Antonio,  high 
above  the  city  and  Temple  that  Jesus  was 
scourged  by  the  Romans.  They  brought  him  from 
the  Government  House  up  the  steep  gangway  and 
through  the  gate  in  the  thick  wall.  The  day  was 
young  when  he  climbed  the  steps  and,  still  in 
Herod's  old  robe,  went  into  the  Fortress.  The 
centurion  left  him  here  in  charge  of  the  soldiers, 
for  he  had  to  prepare  the  Titulus  and  rumour 
said  that  there  were  others  to  be  crucified,  and 
that  the  bars  of  the  crosses  had  to  be  made  ready. 
A  few  civilians  came  up  the  steps  into  the  court 
yard,  but  for  the  most  part,  the  Jews  afraid  of 
defilement  lingered  on  the  stairways,  or  in  the 
streets  below.  I  waited  inside  the  great  gateway 
from  which  one  could  see  right  over  the  courts  of 
the  Temple  and  over  the  roofs  and  towers  of  the 
city  beyond. 

The  soldiers  off  duty,  who  had  been  lounging 
against  the  walls  of  the  barracks,  pressed  round 
their  comrades  of  the  cohort  asking  for  news  of 
the  tumult  in  the  city. 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  223 

"Is  there  going  to  be  a  row*?"  they  said.  "These 
Jews  are  always  asking  for  trouble.  They  want 
to  set  up  a  king,  do  they1?  The  more  of  them 
we  crucify  the  better." 

The  soldiers  were  of  many  races  for  Pilate  had 
only  two  mixed  legions  in  Judea,  but  they  were 
at  one  in  their  contempt  for  the  people  they  ruled. 

Jesus  stood  in  their  midst  alone,  and  suddenly, 
a  big  Northerner  caught  him  by  the  arm  and 
swung  him  round. 

"Is  this  the  cause  of  the  row*?"  he  questioned. 
"A  scurvy  king  for  a  scurvy  people." 

He  snatched  the  red  military  cloak  from  the 
shoulders  of  a  comrade  and  flung  it  round  Jesus. 

"There!  He  looks  more  like  a  king  now,"  he 
cried. 

The  others  laughed  at  the  joke,  and  one  called 
out, 

"Where  is  his  throne1?" 

A  broken  piece  of  a  great  marble  pillar  lay  by 
the  wall,  and  some  of  the  soldiers  ran  to  it  and 
rolled  it  out  into  the  courtyard  and  set  it  on  end, 
and  the  men  who  guarded  Jesus  pushed  him  for 
ward  and  told  him  to  be  seated. 

"He  will  need  a  crown,"  said  the  Northerner 
pulling  the  cloak  into  place. 

"I'll  get  him  one.  I  saw  some  faggots  by  the 
kitchen,"  another  cried  and  ran,  speedily  return- 


224  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

ing  with  an  armful  of  the  sharp  thorns  used  for 
kindling  fires.  These  the  Northerner  plaited  into 
a  crown  which  he  thrust  on  to  the  head  of  Jesus. 
At  the  sight  the  soldiers  burst  into  roars  of  laugh 
ter,  and  led  by  the  Northerner,  they  began  to  pay 
Jesus  mock  honour,  bowing  low  and  bending  the 
knee  before  him,  crying  out, 

"Hail!     King  of  the  Jews!" 

Jesus  did  not  flinch.  The  blood  trickled  down 
his  face  from  where  the  thorns  had  torn  him,  but 
he  made  no  protest. 

It  was  then  that  Longinus,  the  centurion,  passed 
through  the  courtyard  and  stopped  for  a  moment 
to  watch  the  play  of  the  soldiers.  There  was  a 
carpenter  with  him  who  carried  a  long  measuring 
reed,  for  they  had  been  measuring  the  bars  of  the 
crosses,  and  Longinus,  looking  with  a  fatherly  eye 
at  the  game  of  his  men,  said, 

"You  want  a  sceptre,"  and  he  took  the  rod 
from  the  carpenter  and  thrust  it  into  the  hand  of 
Jesus.  Jesus  took  it  from  him  with  courtesy 
and  a  word  of  thanks,  and  the  centurion  in  as 
tonishment  fell  back  with  an  oath.  The  soldiers 
paused  in  their  cruel  game.  Jesus  sitting  erect 
in  the  military  cloak  looked  around  on  them,  and 
in  his  weariness  and  bravery  there  was  a  simplic 
ity  that  pierced  even  those  hardened  men.  They 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  225 

fell  silent  and  Longinus,  too,  mocked  no  more, 
but  said, 

"Perhaps,  boys,  that's  enough.  We'd  better 
get  on  with  the  scourging.  I'll  release  the  other 
men,"  and  he  went  away.  The  soldiers  on  duty 
came  forward  and  took  the  red  cloak  from  Jesus. 
Then  they  stripped  him  to  the  loin-cloth  and 
piled  his  clothes  on  the  pillar.  By  this  time  Lon 
ginus  had  returned  with  the  two  other  condemned 
men.  One  of  them  fought  and  struggled,  and  the 
soldiers  had  to  drag  him  along.  When  they  be 
gan  to  strip  him  he  bit  and  tore  and  it  took  several 
men  to  overpower  him.  The  other  walked  quietly 
to  his  place  beside  Jesus  and  submitted  to  be 
stripped  without  a  movement.  His  body  looked 
woefully  thin  when  the  soldiers  took  his  rags  from 
him,  and  suddenly  he  said  reproachfully  to  them, 

"It  was  for  hunger  I  stole.  Will  you  crucify 
me  for  that?" 

The  soldiers  were  taken  aback,  and  one  of  them 
said,  gruffly, 

"It  is  not  our  fault.     Orders  must  be  obeyed." 

The  man  was  silenced,  but  when  he  saw  a  sol 
dier  come  out  of  the  barracks  carrying  a  new 
leathern  scourge  with  rough  pieces  of  lead  tied  in 
every  thong,  a  wild  fear  leapt  into  his  eyes,  and 
his  starved  body  twitched  all  over  in  terror. 


226  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

"I  cannot  bear  it.  I  cannot  bear  it!"  he  cried 
aloud. 

Jesus  stretched  out  his  hand  and  touched  him, 
saying, 

"It  is  but  a  part  of  the  sorrow  of  all  the  world. 
Let  us  bear  it  bravely.  It  is  for  God." 

The  man,  hearing  a  beautiful  voice,  turned  in 
astonishment,  and  when  he  saw  the  face  of  Jesus 
so  worn  and  blood-stained  his  eyes  suddenly  filled 
with  tears  and  he  said, 

"You  have  had  your  own  bad  time,  brother." 

But  the  other  prisoner  who  had  heard  said 
savagely  to  Jesus, 

"You  think  yourself  great,  don't  you?  I've 
heard  of  your  setting  yourself  up  to  be  king.  You 
ought  to  be  crucified,  but  what  have  we  done  to 
deserve  it1?" 

At  this  Longinus  cried  out  for  silence  and  or 
dered  the  soldiers  to  lead  them  away  into  the 
inner  court  where  the  scourging  pillars  stood. 

I  did  not  see  Jesus  scourged.  I  could  not  bear 
it.  I  went  down  the  gangway  and  into  the  courts 
of  the  Temple.  My  soul  was  numb.  There  was 
no  feeling  left  in  me,  though  I  saw  each  object 
with  such  distinctness  that  the  polished  slabs  on 
the  walls  of  the  Antonia  up  which  no  assault  was 
possible,  the  graded  stairway  with  its  stone  trav 
erses  to  keep  the  feet  from  slipping,  and  the  great 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  227 

P^ ^— ^•-^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^-^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^— ^—     ..  !•-• 

flags  of  the  pavement  that  I  sat  looking  down  on, 
live  in  my  mind  to  this  day.  I  was  still  in  this 
palsy  when  I  saw  Judas  come  across  the  Court. 
He  did  not  seem  real  to  me,  but  like  a  figure  seen 
in  a  dream,  but,  nevertheless,  I  called  out, 

"Judas!     Is  that  you?" 

He  came  nearer  and  I,  still  in  a  dream,  said 
"What  is  it,  Judas'?  You  look  like  death." 

At  that  Judas  came  close  to  me  and  cried  out, 
bitterly, 

"Oh,  man,  can  you  not  see  what  has  happened 
to  me?  A  door  has  opened  in  me  and  I  have 
seen  my  own  soul.  What  is  there  left  for  me  but 
death?  I  have  told  them,  yea,  in  their  very  sanc 
tuary,  that  I  have  sinned,  but  they  do  not  care. 
It  is  not  their  business  they  said.  No  one  cares 
save  Jesus,  and  I  have  sent  him  to  his  death.  He 
trusted  me,  even  though  he  knew  I  should  betray 
him  he  risked  his  life  and  trusted  and  I  did  be 
tray  him." 

He  sat  down  beside  me.  His  dark  eyes  were 
full  of  pain  and  like  a  bewildered  child  he  put 
his  hand  on  my  arm. 

"That  I  should  have  done  this  to  him  when  I 
love  him.  It  was  for  him  I  would  have  fought." 

His  tone  changed  and  he  said  pettishly, 

"I  tell  you  man  I  miss  him.  His  face  is  al 
ways  before  me  and  the  kindness  in  his  eyes." 


228  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

I  held  him  by  the  sleeve  and  fingered  it. 

"They  would  have  taken  him  anyhow,"  I  said 
to  console  him. 

"But  not  through  me,"  he  cried,  uncomforted. 

I  stared  at  him  for  I  felt  his  wits  had  fled.  It 
seemed  so  strange  that  he  could  feel  so  much. 

"Jesus  would  forgive  you,"  I  said  dully,  and 
at  that  he  turned  on  me  in  agony  and  cried, 

"That  is  why  I  must  die.  I  thought  he  didn't 
care,  but  he  cares  more  than  I.  I  thought  he  had 
no  passion  and  I  have  seen  him  in  the  midst  of  it. 
What  is  there  left  for  me  but  death?"  and  he  tore 
his  garment  from  me  and  went. 

And  then  suddenly  my  palsy  left  me  and  I 
could  feel  again.  These  things  were  really  hap 
pening.  Jesus  would  soon  be  dead.  Judas  was 
about  to  die,  too,  but  my  one  thought  was  to  see 
Jesus.  Rising,  distracted  I  ran  back  to  the  steep 
stairway  to  the  Antonia  and  passing  through  the 
groups  of  waiting  people  I  climbed  rapidly  to  the 
gateway  and  entered  the  courtyard. 

The  soldiers  were  bringing  Jesus  out  from  the 
inner  yard.  They  had  dressed  him  in  his  own 
clothes  again,  and  two  of  them  held  him  by  che 
arms,  supporting  him.  The  Titulus  that  hung 
round  his  neck  said  in  large  white  letters,  "Jesus 
of  Nazareth,  King  of  the  Jews." 

The  thieves  came  behind.    Their  scourging  had 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  229 

been  lighter,  for  they  could  walk  without  help. 
They,  too,  had  their  inscriptions  proclaiming  their 
names,  Gesmas  and  Dysmas,  and  for  what  faults 
they  died.  In  the  middle  of  the  courtyard  the 
carpenter  stood  ready  with  nails  and  a  hammer, 
and  a  ladder  and  three  heavy  bars  of  wood  lay  on 
the  ground.  Several  rough  men  waited  in  a  cor 
ner  and  when  the  centurion  called  out  asking  if 
there  were  any  mates  of  the  prisoners  present  who 
would  bear  their  cross-bars,  two  of  them  came 
forward  and  took  up  the  bars  of  Gesmas  and 
Dysmas.  But  Jesus  had  no  mate.  The  centurion 
would  not  give  me  leave  to  carry  the  bar,  saying 
he  dare  not  as  I  was  a  patrician  and  he  had  seen 
me  with  Pilate.  So  Jesus  steadied  himself,  hold 
ing  by  the  hand  of  a  soldier,  and  the  heavy  bar 
was  laid  on  his  back  where  his  tunic  covered  the 
marks  of  the  scourging.  Then  the  centurion's 
guard  formed  in  front  and  behind  the  prisoners, 
and  the  carpenter  came  too,  with  his  ladder  and 
nails,  and  they  all  moved  forward  out  of  the  gate 
and  down  the  stairway.  The  crowd  that  stood  be 
low  looked  up  in  excitement  and  came  closer  to 
see  all.  Some  women,  whose  veils  hid  their  faces, 
were  waiting  and  followed  in  a  little  group.  Ges 
mas,  the  man  who  had  fought  the  soldiers,  walked 
in  front,  boasting  that  he  was  not  afraid  to  die, 
but  Dysmas  who  came  behind  did  not  speak.  His 


230  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

eyes  were  fixed  on  Jesus  watching  every  move 
ment.  The  sun  was  hot,  and  the  sweat  poured 
down  the  face  of  Jesus  and  he  swayed  now  and 
then  under  the  weight  of  the  cross.  A  depression 
had  fallen  on  the  soldiers  and  they  marched  in 
silence,  and  as  if  reluctantly.  When  some  paces 
up  the  street,  beyond  the  stairway,  Jesus  stumbled 
and  lurched  heavily  and  Dysmas  called  out  sharp 
ly,  "He's  not  strong  enough  to  carry  it";  he  was 
not  rebuked,  but  Longinus  halted  the  column  and 
himself  adjusted  the  heavy  bar  so  that  it  set  more 
easily  on  the  shoulders  of  Jesus,  asking  him  if  that, 
felt  better.  Jesus  thanked  him  and  they  started 
again. 

A  few  yards  further  on  Jesus  reeled  and  fell. 

"Can't,  you  see  he's  done4?"  Dysmas  cried  ou1:, 
and  again  no  man  rebuked  him.  but  the  column 
halted  of  itself  and  Longinus  and  a  soldier  lifted 
the  heavy  bar  from  the  body  of  Jesus  and  raised 
him  up. 

The  women  who  followed  were  weeping,  and 
one  of  them  plucked  the  veil  from  her  head  and 
rushed  forward.  She  held  out  a  corner  of  her  veil 
to  a  water  carrier  who  stood  by,  and  he  sluiced  it 
with  fresh  water  from  his  goat-skin  and  she  ten 
derly  wiped  the  blood  and  sweat  from  the  face  of 
Jesus  reviving  him  so  that  he  opened  his  eyes  and 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  231 

smiled.  At  the  sight  the  women  broke  into  wails 
and  beat  their  breasts. 

Jesus  said  to  Longinus, 

"My  spirit  is  willing,  but  my  body  is  weak." 

Then  he  turned  to  the  women  and  said, 

"Do  not  weep  for  me,  women  of  Jerusalem. 
Weep  for  yourselves  and  for  your  children.  A 
time  is  coming  when  only  the  barren  will  be  happy 
and  those  who  have  never  borne  children.  The 
spirit  of  this  world  that  is  killing  me  will  also 
lay  hands  upon  you.  They  that  rule  by  the  sword 
will  not  spare  women  and  children." 

He  rocked  on  his  feet  as  he  spoke,  and  Longinus 
looked  round  for  help. 

Beside  me  stood  a  big  negro  who  carried  two 
market  baskets  full  of  vegetables.  His  black  face 
and  his  blood-streaked  eyes  shone  with  pity,  and 
when  Longinus  called  to  him  he  stepped  forward 
willingly,  but  remembering  his  baskets  he  paused 
and  looked  hesitatingly  at  me.  I  took  the  baskets 
from  him  and  he  went  and  lifted  up  the  cross-bar 
as  if  it  were  a  toy,  and  the  soldiers,  steadying 
Jesus,  we  went  on  through  the  narrow  streets  and 
out  by  the  Damascus  gate. 

Three  posts  stood  ready  by  the  roadside  on  a 
hillock  where  all  men  could  see.  The  prisoners 
were  offered  drugged  wine  but  Jesus  would  not 
take  it.  So  stripping  him  again  to  the  loin-cloth, 


232  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

they  laid  him  on  the  ground  and  stretching  out 
his  arms,  they  bound  them  with  rope  to  the  cross 
bar  and  nailed  his  hands  to  the  wood.  Then  they 
brought  him  to  the  foot  of  the  post  and  a  man 
on  the  ladder  hauling  with  a  rope  and  others  below 
lifting,  they  hoisted  the  cross-bar,  with  the  body 
of  Jesus,  till  it  jarred  into  the  socket  prepared. 
Then  they  tied  it  securely.  Afterwards  they  did 
the  same  to  the  two  thieves.  When  this  was  done 
they  threw  the  clothing  of  the  prisoners  into  a 
heap  and  diced  for  it.  Then  the  guard  divided 
and  half  returned  to  the  barracks  and  half  under 
Longinus  remained  to  watch. 

Simon  stood  beside  me  with  his  market  baskets. 
The  tears  rolled  down  his  black  cheeks,  and  from 
time  to  time  he  wiped  them  off  with  the  back  of 
his  hand. 

But  the  mob  that  lingered  looking  on  the  agony 
of  the  crucified  had  no  pity,  and  the  travellers  on 
the  Damascus  road  who  stopped  to  see,  and  the 
leading  men  of  the  city,  sneered  at  Jesus  and  said, 

"He  wanted  to  save  others.  Let  him  save  him 
self  if  he  is  the  Son  of  God." 

They  called  out  to  Jesus,  mocking  him,  "If 
you  are  God's  son  come  down  from  the  cross." 
"You  that  trusted  in  God  get  God  to  deliver  you 
now.  Come  down  from  the  cross  and  we  will  be 
lieve  in  you." 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  233 

And  reading  the  Titulus  they  said, 

"Where  is  your  kingdom  now,  you  King  of  the 
Jews?' 

I  felt  as  if  the  point  of  a  sharp  sword  had  been 
broken  off  inside  my  heart.  How  could  they  mock 
at  Jesus  in  his  pain4?  How  could  men  watch  with 
curious  eyes  to  see  how  much  the  thieves  could 
suffer?  A  blackness  fell  upon  me  and  though  the 
sun  still  shone  I  could  not  see  the  light.  Surely 
human  nature  was  cruel  to  the  bone"? 

Gesmas  had  writhed  his  body  upwards,  so  loos 
ening  the  ropes  that  by  tearing  his  palms  with  the 
nails  in  them  he  could  get  one  elbow  over  the 
cross-bar.  He  was  drugged  and  half  drunk  and 
he  cried  out  to  Jesus. 

"Can't  you  see  how  we  suffer?  If  you  are  the 
son  of  God  take  us  down  from  these  crosses.  Save 
us  and  yourself."  His  elbow  slipped  and  in  his 
torment  his  voice  broke  and  he  began  to  curse 
and  to  swear,  reviling  Jesus  and  blaming  him  for 
the  pain. 

Dysmas  who  hung  to  the  right  had  turned  his 
head  so  that  he  could  see  the  face  of  Jesus  and  he 
said  to  Gesmas,  "What  has  this  man  done  to  you 
that  you  curse  him  so?  They  have  some  excuse 
for  torturing  us  for  we  have  broken  their  laws, 
but  he  has  done  nothing." 

Then  he  said  to  Jesus, 


234  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

"Do  not  forget  me  when  you  come  into  your 
kingdom*?" 

And  Jesus,  his  face  drawn  with  pain,  but  his 
voice  still  kind,  answered, 

"This  very  day  when  this  pain  is  over,  we  shall 
be  together  again."  And  the  man,  comforted, 
set  his  lips  to  endure  to  the  end. 

When  I  saw  this,  shame  came  upon  me  and  an 
agony  of  remorse.  For  all  my  life  I  had  seen  such 
sights  and  had  taken  for  granted  that  such  men 
were  worthy  of  death.  Why,  all  Judea  was  dotted 
with  crosses  and  on  them  men  had  died.  In  every 
country  of  the  world  such  deaths  were  inflicted 
by  those  in  power.  Since  the  beginning  of  time 
it  had  been  so.  Man  had  always  tortured  man. 
Because  of  my  neglect  these  things  had  been.  I 
had  agreed  that  that  should  be  which  need  not 
have  been.  The  anguish  that  man  gives  to  men 
was  my  fault  too.  But  Jesus  had  not  been  blind. 
He  had  seen  the  pain  of  man  and  had  raised  his 
voice  against  the  cruelty  showing  men  the  remedy. 
His  message  would  have  saved  the  world  from 
such  horrors.  God  spoke  through  him  for  his 
nature  was  greater  than  ours.  But  the  great  en 
gine  of  government  had  caught  Jesus  and  he  was 
dying,  and  I  was  his  murderer  and  the  murderer 
of  the  men  who  died  with  him.  Because  of  my 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  235 

blindness  my  friend  must  die.  I  turned  my  face 
aside  and  wept. 

As  the  day  drew  on  a  certain  awe  seemed  to  fall 
upon  the  crowd,  and  the  mockers  went  and  few 
were  left  save  friends  of  Jesus.  The  depression 
still  held  the  soldiers.  They  had  nailed  the  pris 
oners  to  the  cross  as  a  part  of  their  day's  work, 
but  they  had  worked  in  silence,  and  now  they  did 
not  hinder  the  lovers  of  Jesus  from  drawing  near. 
Mary  the  Mother  of  Jesus,  and  Mary  of  Magdala 
and  the  other  women  came  and  stood  close  to  the 
crosses  and  no  man  ordered  them  away.  Jesus 
opened  his  eyes  and  saw  his  mother  standing  there 
and  John,  who  had  come  up  behind  the  women. 
He  called  out  the  name  of  John,  who  came  closer 
and  Jesus  said, 

"You  will  take  care  of  her,  John1?"  and  John, 
choked  with  tears,  put  his  arm  round  the  shoulders 
of  Mary. 

Jesus  said  to  his  mother, 

"He  will  be  your  son."  His  lips  were  parched 
and  he  spoke  with  difficulty.  His  eyes  closed 
again.  The  women  wept  aloud,  and  Longinus 
taking  a  pike  from  one  of  the  soldiers,  tore  a  hand 
ful  of  hyssop  from  a  bush  growing  near  by  and 
steeped  it  in  a  bowl  of  the  soldiers'  wine  and  ty 
ing  it  on  the  pike  moistened  the  lips  of  Jesus. 
Jesus  opened  his  eyes  and  smiled  in  thanks. 


236  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

"He  will  not  last  long,"  said  Longinus  to  the 
women  to  comfort  them.  "These  others  are 
stronger.  They  have  hours  of  this  before  them. 
We  soldiers  have  heavy  work  to  do  sometimes." 

The  hot  sun  beat  down  upon  the  heads  of  the 
crucified  and  their  limbs  were  swelling  where  the 
ropes  tied  them.  Gesmas  still  writhed  and  mut 
tered,  but  even  his  strength  was  failing.  Dysmas 
hung  half  fainting  with  his  long  anguish.  Jesus 
moved  his  head  uneasily  against  the  hard  wood 
of  the  cross  as  a  sick  man  moves  his  head  on  a 
hot  pillow.  I  hid  my  eyes  from  their  dying  faces, 
for  a  great  reverence  came  upon  me  and  who  was 
I  to  gaze  upon  their  agony  ? 

A  thunderstorm  was  blowing  up  from  the  moun 
tains  and  the  clouds  hid  the  sun.  The  women 
stood  praying  for  Jesus  and  for  the  thieves,  and 
the  centurion  leaned  on  the  pike  and  was  silent. 
Simon  and  the  soldiers  were  silent  too.  For  a  long 
time  we  stayed  thus. 

Suddenly  Jesus  opened  his  eyes  and  gave  a  loud 
cry.  The  gladness  in  his  voice  startled  all  who 
heard,  for  it  seemed  a  shout  of  victory. 

"It  is  finished,"  he  cried.  "Father,  into  thy 
hands  I  commit  my  spirit." 

And  with  that  cry  he  died. 

The  centurion  turning  away  in  awe  gave  the 
pike  back  to  the  soldier  from  whom  he  had  bor- 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  237 

rowed  it.    He  stood  silent  for  a  moment  and  then 

he  said, 

"Truly,  this  man  was  a  son  of  God." 

And  Simon  the  negro  with  a  sob  gathered  up 

his  baskets  and  went  back  into  the  city,  but  the 

women,  weeping  bitterly,  stayed  by  the  cross. 


XXII 

JOSEPH  OF  ARIMATHEA  buried  the  body 
of  Jesus  in  his  own  tomb.  He  went  to  Pilate, 
who  gave  him  an  order  to  take  the  body  from  the 
cross.  Pilate  was  astonished  that  Jesus  had  died 
so  soon,  and  gave  the  order  willingly,  and  Joseph 
and  Nicodemus  and  the  women  brought  spices  to 
the  tomb  and  did  all  that  our  customs  enjoin  for 
the  burial  of  the  dead.  I  went  back  with  Nico 
demus  to  his  house,  and  after  that  I  remember  no 
more,  for  something  seemed  to  break  in  my  head 
with  a  great  pain,  and  I  lay  ill  for  weeks  and  knew 
no  one.  The  summer  was  waning  before  I  was 
able  to  go  about  my  business  in  the  north  again. 
One  the  evening  before  I  was  to  set  out  for 
Galilee,  I  went  to  the  Garden  of  Gethsemane.  I 
went  by  way  of  the  path  outside  the  south  wall 
along  which  the  Temple  officials  had  led  Jesus  to 
Caiaphas,  and  I  climbed  between  the  olive  trees 
to  where  Jesus  had  stood  looking  at  the  sunset.  I 
stopped  close  to  the  dry  stone  wall  where  I  could 
see  all  Judea  spread  out  before  me.  The  day 
had  been  hot,  and  a  haze  hung  over  the  mountains 

638 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  239 

of  Moab  and  hid  their  colour.  The  sun  had 
scorched  the  land  and  there  was  no  glory  in  it 
now.  The  beauty  had  gone  from  the  earth. 

After  a  time  I  turned  aside.  Why  should  I 
stay  there?  Life  was  ugly  and  barren.  There 
was  no  joy  left  in  it.  I  crossed  the  open  space 
where  Jesus  had  gone  apart  to  pray,  and  passed, 
as  he  had  done,  between  the  twisted  boughs  of 
the  olives.  A  narrow  track  led  higher  up  the 
mountain  and  I  followed  it  until  I  came  to  where 
the  olives  ceased  giving  place  to  tall  cypresses  and 
a  few  forest  trees.  Was  it  here  that  Jesus  had 
prayed  in  his  agony1?  What  did  it  matter'?  He 
had  been  killed  in  spite  of  his  prayers.  What  was 
the  good  of  loving  when  death  came  to  end  all1? 

I  sat  down  and  leaned  my  head  against  one  of 
the  trees  of  God.  Somehow  the  touch  of  the  wild 
tree  comforted  me.  The  garden  had  been  planted 
by  man,  the  olive  trees  and  the  dry  stone  wall 
were  man's  work,  and  man  was  cruel  and  stupid. 
There  was  no  hope  in  a  world  ruled  by  men.  But 
God  had  made  the  forest  trees. 

I  lay  there  for  a  long  time,  quieted,  marvelling 
at  the  strong  twist  in  the  trunk  of  a  cypress  and 
the  wonder  of  the  grey  shadow  on  its  green  boughs. 
The  sun  was  declining  and  the  heat  haze  still  hid 
the  distant  mountains.  An  odd  snoring  noise  had 
begun  somewhere  and  I  listened,  half  unconscious- 


240  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

ly  waiting,  as  each  long  snore  ceased,  for  the  next 
to  begin.  The  sound  seemed  to  come  from  all 
around  me.  It  could  not  be  a  man  for  there  was 
no  man  near.  A  vague  curiosity  stirred  me  as  to 
where  the  noise  came  from,  and  soon  I  rose  and 
went  to  see.  The  sound  did  not  cease  at  the 
crunch  of  my  footsteps.  I  went  towards  an  old 
hollow  tree  and  the  snoring  grew  louder.  I 
looked  up  into  the  tree  and  saw  a  small  owl  sitting 
on  a  branch  above  my  head.  It  turned  a  pinched 
nose  and  two  dark  eyes  set  in  a  fluff  of  pale  yellow 
down,  and  regarded  me.  There  was  no  fear  about 
it.  It  moved  its  head  as  a  kitten  does,  and  there 
was  a  thick  wrinkle  all  down  its  pale  brown  neck 
where  the  skin  and  feathers  doubled.  For  a  mo 
ment  it  gazed  at  me  with  an  indifferent  curiosity, 
and  then  it  turned  its  head  away  and  went  on 
with  its  snoring.  I  leant  against  the  tree  and 
watched  it,  and  something  smote  me  in  the  heart 
with  agony  that  it  should  be  alive,  so  young  and 
so  quaint,  and  that  Jesus  should  be  dead.  It  was 
a  little  owl.  It  had  not  been  alive  when  Jesus 
died. 

As  I  stood  grappling  with  my  misery,  I  heard 
a  gay  voice  singing  and  a  woman  in  the  blue  cloth 
ing  of  a  peasant  turned  the  corner  of  the  path 
and  came  towards  me.  It  was  Mary  Magdalene. 
I  looked  at  her  in  amazement.  Were  all  women 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  241 

heartless  as  all  men  were  cruel  ?  Jesus  was  dead 
and  the  world  was  black  to  me,  but  the  sunshine 
was  still  golden  to  her.  And  she  had  seemed  to 
love  him. 

Mary  came  nearer  and  at  the  sight  of  my  face 
her  song  stopped. 

"How  can  you  sing,  Mary,  when  Jesus  is 
dead4?"  I  said,  and  turned  to  go. 

But  she  caught  me  by  the  sleeve. 

"Jesus  is  not  dead,"  she  cried,  and  I  stopped 
short,  a  wild  impossible  hope  springing  upon  me. 

"What  do  you  mean,  Mary4?     I  saw  him  die." 

"And  so  did  I.  But  I  have  seen  him  since," 
she  said. 

"Seen  him?    Are  you  mad1?"  I  said. 

She  shook  her  head. 

"You  have  been  ill.  You  have  not  heard.  Sit 
down  and  I  will  tell  you." 

So  we  sat  down  at  the  foot  of  the  tree,  and  the 
little  owl  snored  above  us. 

"You  must  see  that  something  has  happened," 
she  said.  "You  cannot  think  that  I  could  be  so 
callous.  I  who  loved  him  more  than  any.  Had 
I  not  more  to  love  him  for1?" 

Her  eyes  filled  with  tears,  and  she  put  her 
hand  on  my  arm. 

"We  harlots  have  to  fend  for  ourselves.  No 
body  takes  care  of  us,"  she  said.  "Do  you  know 


242  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

what  it  means  to  us,  amongst  whom  love  is  bought 
and  sold,  to  have  it  offered  as  a  gift1?  Jesus  said 
God  cared.  Have  I  not  more  to  love  him  for  than 
you?' 

I  sat  silent,  ashamed  of  my  suspicion  of  her. 
The  impossible  hope  had  died  away,  and  I  lis 
tened  sadly. 

"I  was  broken  for  days  after  his  death.  But 
look  at  me  now.  Am  I  the  same  woman  who 
stood  v/eeping  beneath  the  cross,  hopeless  and  in 
misery*?" 

"What  has  happened  to  you,  Mary*?"  I  asked. 
The  dullness  had  settled  on  me  again  and  I  thought 
she  raved. 

"I  have  seen  Jesus,"  she  said.  "At  first  I 
thought  it  was  the  gardener.  But  then  I  saw 
that  it  was  Jesus." 

"You  were  dreaming,  Mary.  You  have  de 
ceived  yourself,"  I  said,  but  she  shook  her  head 
and  smiled. 

"You  think  I  am  a  wild  woman  who  cannot  tell 
truth  from  dreams.  And  I  tell  you,  no,  I  am  not 
mad.  Look  at  me  and  see  if  it  is  not  true." 

I  looked  at  her  and  indeed  she  seemed  quite 
sane,  but  her  talk  was  mad. 

"You  think  you  saw  his  spirit1?"  I  asked. 

':I  suppose  it  was  his  spirit,"  she  replied.  "But 
what  does  it  matter  what  I  saw,  body  or  spirit^1 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  243 

I  saw  Jesus  alive  still,  and  whereas  I  was  in  misery 
I  am  now  full  of  joy." 

"You  have  deceived  yourself,  Mary,"  I  said 
again.  And  she  cried  out  vehemently. 

"Could  I  be  happy  if  Jesus  was  really  dead,  if 
he  was  only  a  dreamer  and  his  vision  of  the  king 
dom  impossible'?  Others  have  seen  him  too.  Men 
everywhere  are  asking  what  has  happened  to  us. 
When  you  see  Peter  and  John  again  you  can 
judge  for  yourself.  Peter  is  altogether  changed. 
People  are  asking  'How  have  these  barbarous  and 
contemptible  people  suddenly  become  wise  *?  Who 
has  given  them  this'?  How  have  they  been  in 
structed*?'  Our  minds  are  fervent  like  a  fire  that 
burns.  We  cannot  be  unhappy." 

"It  is  only  a  dream,  Mary,"  I  said  dully. 

"Would  Peter  spread  the  good  news  with  such 
fire  despising  death,  for  a  dream1?"  she  cried. 
"They  say  of  him  that  he  was  born  amongst  us, 
and  grew  up  with  us,  and  was  feeble  of  under 
standing,  but  that  now  he  is  inspired,  and  men 
hear  from  him  things  that  enrich  them  and  make 
life  great  and  noble.  Can  this  be  without  the 
finger  of  God?" 

I  threw  myself  face  downwards  on  the  ground. 
I  could  not  listen  to  her  talk,  for  there  was  no 
hope  within  me,  and  it  broke  my  heart.  Mary 
touched  me  gently  on  the  shoulder  and  said, 


244  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

"It  does  not  matter  whether  you  believe  that 
I  saw  Jesus  or  dreamed.  What  matters  is  that 
we  must  spread  the  news  of  his  kingdom.  Cannot 
a  dream  alter  the  face  of  the  world?  There  is  a 
power  within  me  that  forces  me  to  go  on,  that 
makes  me  want  to  suffer  everything  for  everybody. 
What  matter  how  it  came?  Shall  I  not  yield  to 
it?  And  you,  too,  when  it  comes  to  you?" 

And  she  went  away  and  left  me  there  under  the 
tree  of  God. 

It  was  in  Galilee,  on  the  mountain  where  I 
had  first  heard  Jesus  teach,  that  hope  came  back 
to  me.  After  a  hard  day's  work  I  had  wandered 
away  from  the  village,  and  climbed  the  mountain 
and  sat  looking  down  on  the  great  plain  with  its 
vineyards  and  olive  gardens,  and  the  thin  grey 
smoke  that  rose  in  the  air  as  the  women  made 
ready  the  evening  meal.  The  voices  of  the  chil 
dren  driving  the  cattle  home  came  from  the  plain, 
and  far  in  the  distance  a  cow  lowed  to  her  calf 
and  the  sheep  baaed  to  their  lambs.  Darkness 
was  falling,  but  I  could  not  go.  The  light  faded 
and  blackness  covered  the  land.  I  bowed  my  head 
on  my  arms  and  sat  on,  too  tired  for  sleep,  too 
hopeless  for  pain,  too  sad  for  tears.  The  wild 
beasts  cried  aloud  in  the  night,  but  I  did  not  move. 
All  night  I  sat  there,  and  in  the  morning  came 
the  dawn. 


By  an  Unknown  Disciple  245 

First  there  came  the  stillness.  No  bird  cheeped, 
no  wild  beast  cried  aloud.  A  faint  glimmer  of 
light  showed  the  dark  masses  of  the  forests  on 
the  hills,  and  the  dim  silver  line  of  the  sea.  The 
golden  light  spread  and  touched  the  land  and 
colour  awoke  again  in  earth  and  sky.  The  sun 
came  up  behind  the  mountains  and  the  shadows 
lay  from  east  to  west  along  the  plain.  It  was 
then  that  the  vision  came  to  me.  I  saw  nothing. 
I  heard  nothing,  but  as  the  dawn  spread  slowly 
over  the  land,  waking  the  earth  to  beauty,  some 
thing  awoke  in  my  heart.  I  do  not  know  what  it 
was.  I  have  no  words  to  tell  of  it.  The  earth  lay 
before  me  bathed  in  a  light  that  men  seldom  saw, 
a  clear  radiance  that  transfigured  each  familiar 
place  and  gave  the  world  the  beauty  of  a  dream. 
And  yet  it  was  still  the  earth.  The  forests  and 
moors,  the  mountains  and  valleys,  were  the  same, 
but  another  light  lay  upon  them.  So  it  was  with 
my  soul.  An  intense,  still  joy  awoke  in  my  heart, 
a  joy  in  which  there  was  no  shadow  of  restlessness 
or  disturbance,  and  the  old  gay  sense  of  something 
added  to  life  came  back  to  me.  It  seemed  as 
though  Jesus  had  watched  by  me  all  night  and  I 
had  not  known  it.  The  place  was  full  of  his  pres 
ence.  Or  was  it  only  that  the  earth  was  my  healer^ 

The  glory  of  the  vision  blinded  me,  and  I  hid 
my  eyes.  There  was  no  death.  Each  night  the 


246  By  an  Unknown  Disciple 

beauty  of  the  earth  died  into  darkness,  each  dawn 
in  wonder  the  light  rose  again  on  it.  It  was  so 
with  the  spirit  of  man.  In  tribulation  and  in  agony 
happiness  died,  but  in  beauty  and  glory  joy  lived 
again.  I  rolled  over  on  my  face  on  the  coarse 
mountain  grass  and  lay  there  thinking.  The 
greatest  miracle  in  the  world  had  happened  to  me. 
I  had  seen  the  transfiguration  in  the  look  of  life 
that  an  emotion  brings.  A  remembrance  of  beauty 
and  love  and  immortal  passion,  the  romance  of  the 
earth  and  of  life  had  taken  hold  of  me.  The 
smallest,  meanest  things  had  gained  a  power  of 
signifying  the  greatest,  noblest  things.  The  world 
was  full  of  wonders.  Nothing  was  impossible  to 
love. 

The  children  had  begun  to  drive  the  cattle  out. 
Their  shrill  cries  rose  in  the  air  before  I  stirred. 
When  I  sat  up  and  looked  at  the  earth  again  it  was 
broad,  garish  day.  The  beauty  of  the  world  no 
longer  caught  my  breath  away.  In  the  bustle  of 
life  my  vision  must  fade,  but  I  did  not  mind.  I 
had  seen  the  eternal  beauty  that  lies  hidden  in  the 
commonplace.  There  was  a  work  to  do,  and  like 
Peter  and  the  disciples  I  must  do  it,  no  matter 
what  the  cost.  So  I  rose  to  my  feet  to  go  back 
to  my  village  and  take  up  my  job  again. 

THE   END 


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